


Start of Something New

by bri617



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF!Felicity, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Felicity rocks the tech world, Friends to Lovers, Higher rating for language, Mentions of Violence, No island, Oliver as an actor, Oliver has a dog, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Tropes all around, but also so much FLUFF!!!, dog-sitting, noncon situation, stuck elevator meet-cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 111,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri617/pseuds/bri617
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actor!AU<br/>Award-winning actor and heartthrob Oliver Queen has had enough of his Hollywood life and decides to take a year off to reconnect with his roots in Starling City. What he didn’t expect was to get stuck in an elevator with his dog and his new neighbor Felicity Smoak, CEO and founder of rising tech company SmoakSolutions, or the easy-going friendship that came out of that first meeting. </p><p>But is friendship really all there is between them?</p><p>Slow burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dearies, we meet again or maybe for the first time? Either way, welcome to my newest adventure! 
> 
> As a quick orientation:  
> ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ marks the beginning and end of a chapter and time jumps  
> ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ indicates a POV switch
> 
> I’m super excited to hear what you think!
> 
> Happy reading and a fantastic weekend and peaceful holidays to everyone who’s celebrating next week.

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

Oliver shuts down his laptop after replying to the latest email from his agent, reminding him of the "incredibly important" round of interviews to promote his newest movie tomorrow. He's pretty sure that even if he tried to forget about it, he couldn't because of the daily reminders from his agent.

Even if he's not filming any new movies this year, he still has to meet some obligations. One movie he shot last year is coming out soon and so he has to make the rounds through talk shows and sit through countless interviews for the promotion of said movie. At least he was able to negotiate that he'd only do interviews in Starling, so that he doesn't have to travel much and leave his dog behind. So whoever wants to hear his opinion will have to come here.

For now at least, since he'll have to go on a press tour for the movie when the international premieres come around, but that's not for another few months. 

It's all part of his attempt to reconnect with his roots here in Starling City, trying to repair all the burned bridges between old friends and even his family that his sudden rise to stardom and his move to Hollywood had created. But he knows that there are some things you can't fix, not after ten years.

With a sigh and a glance at his watch, he drops the laptop on his couch and turns towards his dog.

Time to forget about the pesky parts of his job, and enjoy some time with his best friend.

"Come one, boy, we're going for a walk."

Arcus jumps up from his favorite spot by the floor length windows and runs straight past Oliver, coming to a skidding halt by the door. He finds his favorite red rubber ball in the basket next to the door, keeping it securely in place with his big teeth, and sits down, throwing an almost impatient look towards his owner.

Oliver can't help but chuckle at his dog's antics as he makes his way over to him. The only thing missing is the insistent tapping of his paws against the ground to make him the most annoyingly persistent dog in the world. Then again, he's surprised that Thea or Tommy haven't taught him that particular trick already.

He grabs the leash from the basket and links it to Arcus' collar, leading him outside towards the bank of elevators. As if on autopilot, his dog takes up his usual position in the far corner of the waiting elevator car.

Oliver had trained him to do that after other tenants had mentioned feeling intimidated by the big black dog in the small confines of the elevator, despite his impeccable training. So Oliver now always makes sure that his dog is in the far corner and he stands between the canine and whoever else may come into the elevator.

As if on cue, it comes to a stop after only one floor, the doors opening to reveal a short blonde.

"Going down?" she asks in a cheerful voice.

He's left to just nod, plastering on a smile, when his voice is temporarily failing him.

She steps in, turning her back to him and facing the closing door. With her attention elsewhere, he takes the opportunity to let his eyes wander over her. From her black high heels, over her smooth legs and equally black pencil skirt, over the beige trench coat (Burberry, a voice in his head that sounds distinctly like his sister provides helpfully) to her blonde locks that fall over her upper back in natural curls.

From the few seconds he got to see her face, he remembers vibrant pink lips and azure blue eyes behind black-rimmed glasses.

She's cute. Beautiful even.

But not his type.

His musing is rudely interrupted by a hard jolt of the elevator car when it comes to an abrupt halt, lights flickering a few times before dipping the small space into complete darkness.

Arcus whines quietly around the ball in his muzzle behind his owner, pressing his nose into Oliver's leg like he wants to assure himself that he's not alone. One of Oliver's hands automatically drops down to the dog's head, petting him gently, while his other hand rifles through his jacket pocket in search of his phone.

"You guys okay?" The blonde's voice comes from right in front of him, her phone suddenly illuminating the dark space, making him squint his eyes together.

"We're good. You?"

"Apart from being stuck in a tin can 30 floors off the ground?" she asks, humor lacing her voice. "Sure, I'm peachy."

He huffs out an amused breath. "Glad you're enjoying yourself."

In the sparse light from her phone he can see her shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. "Better than hyperventilating or crying on your shoulder."

Maybe it's just the low light and the way the shadows dance over her face, but he could've sworn that he saw her biting her lip to keep from saying more. But instead, she moves over to the control panel, pressing the emergency button to contact help.

After a brief discussion with the elevator company in which they're told that there's an unidentified system error and to sit tight for half an hour or so, he hears the blonde sigh and chuck her heels off, letting them clatter to the ground while she leans against the wall and slides down until she sits on the floor.

He runs a hand through his hair and decides to follow her lead, positioning his body between his dog's lying form and the blonde who's placing her phone face down on the floor, the beam from the camera's flash illuminating the elevator as much as possible.

"Since it looks like we'll be stuck here for a while, I'm Felicity," the blonde pipes up after a few seconds of silence, stretching out her hand.

He grabs it and shakes it with a smile. "I'm Oliver."

Her lips stretch into a sheepish smile. "Full disclosure, I already knew that. And I don't mean that in a creepy 'I've been stalking you' kind of way."

For some reason he can't suppress the smile spreading on his own lips. "How _do_ you mean it then?"

"I'm pretty sure everybody knows you. Or at least, knows _of_ you. You're kind of hard to miss. I mean, you'd seriously have to live under a rock to not have heard of _Oliver Queen_ , big movie star and even bigger womanizer," she says in a 'duh' kind of tone.

He can't help but wince at that last bit.

"Then again," she quickly corrects herself, maybe because she saw his reaction. "That's what all those stupid tabloids say. I don't put too much stock into some hear-say from 'reporters' and 'publishers' who just try to come up with a new scandal to sell more magazines. I'm sure in real life you're perfectly normal. Or as normal as you can be with all those awards under your belt."

Of course he doesn't know her well enough to gauge if her words are true or if she's just saying that to suck up to him, but looking at the way her cheeks fill with a little more color and how she's nervously wringing her fingers, he decides to give her the benefit of doubt.

He tilts his head a little to the side, regarding her with a playful grin. "So, you'll just stick with the 'big movie star' part of your assessment of me?"

Her eyes widen for a second, before she takes a deep breath and flattens out her hands against her thighs. "Yes, yup, I'll definitely stick with that part," she replies and grins at him. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a fan of most of your work. I almost had a heart attack when one of the other tenants from my floor welcomed me and asked if I had already met you. Thought she was just pulling a prank on me. Guess she wasn't."

A self-satisfied smirk plays on his lips at hearing her say she likes- wait, what?

The smirk falls from his lips instantly. "You don't like all of my work?" He tries, but fails to keep the defensiveness and maybe a smidge of hurt from his voice.

She hums her agreement, holding his gaze. "Oh, you had a stellar run in my book for quite some time. Your movies, the way you talk to fans on Facebook, your charity work and, of course, your Calvin Klein campaigns. I mean pheeww," she breathes out and pretends to fan herself with her hand. "Talk about good girls going bad at the sight of _that_. But then, _then_ you just had to go and make that god-awful Robin Hood remake set in the modern world where you end up with that despicable, stuck up lawyer bitch who's played by one-dimensional-actress-what's-her-name who couldn't act out basic human emotions even if her life depended on it? Ugh, it's been two years and I still hate that movie so fracking much. But that stupid wannabe actress was just such a piece of work and-"

He stares at her for a second as her words wash over him, mouth hanging open in shock at her candor, before it finally feels like a dam bursts and uncontrollable laughter tumbles from his lips and a wave of pure joy ripples through his entire body.

He tries to calm down, he really does, but whenever he looks up and sees her wide eyes he loses his shit again. His real, belly-deep laughs and heaving breaths mingle with Arcus' barks who's looking at him with his head tilted to the side and a questioning look in his dark brown eyes, rubber ball long forgotten on the floor.

Oliver feels something wet run down his cheek and when he lifts his hand to wipe it away, he realizes that it's a tear. This complete stranger is making him laugh harder than he's done in a long time just by being brutally honest.

Who in the world is this woman?

Behind his swimming vision he finally manages to lock his eyes on her for a longer time, watching as her expression goes from surprise to irritation and anger. A part of his brain that isn't swept up in the tsunami of joy tells him that she probably thinks he's laughing _at_ her. Her lips curl into a pout, her eyes narrowing at him, scrutinizing him for a few long seconds, before she shakes her head a little and her whole face lights up with amusement.

It's fascinating to watch. Her skin smoothens out, the little wrinkle between her eyebrows disappears and her pink lips curl into a smile that quickly goes from hesitant to completely genuine and full blown.

But what's really remarkable is what happens to her eyes. At first, they regard him with a wariness and some uncertainty, but when her lips start to curl into a smile, her eyes change completely. It's like they start to sparkle, to dance with carefree mirth and laughter.

He's never seen anyone smile so… fully and completely.

When he's finally able to calm himself down, he wipes away his tears and turns to her. "I'm sorry. I swear I wasn't laughing at you. It's just…" He chuckles and shakes his head. "I don't like to talk like this about co-stars, but that woman was so unbelievably awful and a real piece of work. But because her dad is this big time studio boss nobody dares to ever speak the truth about her complete lack of acting skills. What you said just perfectly hit the nail on the head and hearing someone be as candid as you just were is really… rare. And refreshing. You caught me off guard," he admits with a soft smile.

"Being candid is one way of describing my babbling tendencies," she replies with a groan and a blush to her cheeks.

"So you do this a lot then? Being brutally honest about a man's career? I do, by the way, appreciate your hidden compliments in your babble. But to be fair, they photoshop those campaign pictures quite a bit."

She scoffs. "I would've _maybe_ believed that before meeting you in person, but now? Nope," she says, vigorously shaking her head. "You're just as beautiful in real life. No, wait, I mean handsome. You're very handsome and… manly." She vaguely points her finger at his body and whispers, "So, so goddamn manly."

Fine, so maybe he puffs his chest a little at her admission and obvious appreciation of his looks. Who's gonna blame him?

"You sure know how to inflate a man's ego, Felicity," he shoots back smoothly.

The color in her cheek returns and he's secretly pleased with being responsible for that. "So," she says after clearing her throat. "What's your dog's name?"

Not so subtle topic change, he muses, but lets it slide.

He ruffles his dog's head. "This is Arcus."

Felicity smiles over at the dog whose ears perk up at the mention of his name. "That's a really nice name. If I'm not mistaken that's Latin for 'bow'," she mentions casually, surprising him once again.

"It is," he agrees. "My sister gave him to me three years ago and had already decided that that would be his name. My favorite sports team is the Starling City Archers, so you might get an idea how she came up with the name."

"What kind of a breed is he? I don't think I've ever seen a dog like him."

"That doesn't surprise me. He's a Hovawart. I haven't met very many people who've heard about this breed. It's not very common in the US."

"Tell me more about it?" she asks and seems to be genuinely interested.

"Uh, yeah, sure. The Hovawart is an old German breed. From what I've read, mentions go back to the 13th century. They were used to protect families' properties and that's also were the name comes from: 'Hof' is German for 'yard' or 'farm', and 'wart' means 'guardian'. Arcus here, much like his conspecifics, is very loyal and intelligent and generally very gentle, but he's also very particular about who's allowed into the 'pack'. While he absolutely respects my commands, he's less inclined to accept them from others. Only my best friend and my sister have some luck in that department."

"Have you taught him any tricks?"

"He can do a few things. I'll show you once we get out of here."

"Shouldn't be too much longer now," Felicity quips.

He glances down at his watch, eyes widening in surprise. "Yeah, wow, it's already been half an hour. But that also means that we've been talking about me for almost 30 minutes. Tell me something about you."

Is it just his imagination or is she blushing?

"Oh, you know," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Not much to tell."

"Come on, Felicity, I'm at a complete disadvantage here. You seem to know quite a bit about me while I only know your first name and that you live in the building."

She tilts her head to the side a little; smart, inquisitive eyes darting over his face. They're so expressive that he can barely resist squirming under her intense scrutiny. What is she trying to determine? If she can trust him? If he's really interested or just making polite small talk?

"Please?" he adds with what he hopes is a charming and trustworthy smile.

She sighs and nods. "Well, I guess it's only fair. My last name is Smoak and I moved to this building a little over a month ago."

Why does that name ring a bell?

"Where did you live before?"

"Different part of the city. I'm originally from Vegas, but got the opportunity to attend university in Boston where I started my own company in my senior year. I stayed in town for the next years to see it grow and we were actually doing really well, expanding into other cities and taking on more and more corporate clients. But that was mostly concentrated on the East Coast, so I figured it was time to start a new chapter. Starling City was strategically speaking the best choice to embark on this new endeavor."

"What is it that your company does?"

"Different things. All IT-related, though. The biggest chunk of work is probably corporate cyber security, and internal communication and database systems, but we also have some software for the mass market, like our antivirus software SmoakScreen, and our newest additions are a few gaming apps."

He grins when it finally clicks in his head. "SmoakSolutions! That's why I thought your name sounded familiar. I can't tell you how much my agent and I appreciate SmoakScreen. Like some of my fellow actors I've been hacked a few times, but they've never managed to break through your firewall. Your software is an absolute lifesaver."

She beams at him. "I'm glad to hear that, even though I can't help but feel bad that because of my work no one has been able to see your nude pictures," she says with a playful wink.

He barks out a surprised laugh. "What, my underwear ads aren't enough for you?"

"Well, you said it yourself, those tend to be photoshopped," she shoots back without missing a beat, eyes shining with mischief.

"And you assured me that I'm just as beautiful in real life," he reminds her, pointing his index finger playfully at her.

She presses her lips together, not quite able to hide her smile. "Touché."

Their lighthearted moment is interrupted by the insistent buzzing of his phone next to Felicity's on the floor. One look at the screen tells him that it's his best friend. "Sorry, I gotta take this," he says apologetically.

He untangles his feet and rises up from the floor, his legs protesting the sudden movement after being inactive for a while, but he doesn't want to be completely rude and just talk to someone else in front of her. So when he gets up, he shoots her a quick smile and turns away from her, facing the corner of the elevator.

"Hey, Tommy."

_"_ _Hey, man, so glad I could catch you."_

"What's up?"

_"_ _I'm sorry to do this to you, but I can't look after that fleebag of yours tomorrow. There's a problem at one of our subsidiaries in Metropolis and my dad told me to go handle it. I'm driving to the airport as we speak and I won't be back until sometime next week."_

"You've got to be kidding me. I was counting on you! What the hell am I supposed to do with him?" he hisses, trying to keep his voice down.

_"_ _Ask Thea to look after him. She's the one that got you into this mess when she got him for you."_

"She's in Europe with my mother this week which is the reason why I asked you in the first place."

_"_ _Then just call one of those dog sitting services. It's just for a few hours."_

"It's not just for a few hours, it'll be for most of the day. You know as well as I do that he's not gonna trust some stranger he's never met before." The downside of the unconditional loyalty of his dog.

_"_ _Dude, I really am sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm just pulling up to the airport. Talk to you later."_

Oliver barely hears the beep on the line indicating his friend hung up over the angry string of expletives running through his head. He slams his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, barely resisting the urge to slam his fist into the cold steel of the elevator wall.

The one time he really needs his friend's help…

With another deep breath and a clenched jaw he turns around and instantly freezes at the sight before him.

At some point during his conversation with Tommy, his dog had snuck away from his feet and maneuvered his considerable body mass over to where Felicity is still sitting on the floor. He's lying on his back, all four paws dangling in the air while his head rests snugly in Felicity's lap, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. His eyes are contently fixed on the blonde woman who's talking animatedly to him in a hushed voice. Her one hand is scratching over his chest in a small circular motion while her other is doing the same on Arcus' head.

"What the hell are you doing?" Oliver can't stop himself from asking, his voice raised and carrying an underlying accusation.

Felicity stills immediately, head shooting up and wide eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry! I… I didn't mean to… overstep?" She sounds confused and defensive.

"I wasn't talking to you," he quickly corrects, pointing his finger accusingly at his dog who turns onto his belly now, looking up at Oliver with innocent eyes, burrowing his nose in Felicity's thigh.

"I'm talking to that little treacherous bastard," he grits out, glaring down at Arcus who has the audacity to move up his head and lick Felicity's hand.

"Oh?" she huffs out, even more confused than before, glancing down at the oh so innocent dog practically sitting in her lap by now.

"Here I am, talking to my best friend, claiming that my dog doesn't warm up to strangers quickly and that that's the reason why I'm in a major pinch for tomorrow, and then I turn around and see him snuggling with you even though he doesn't even know you," he exclaims frustratedly, throwing his hands up in the air.

"And that's a bad thing?" she asks, looking utterly adorable with that little confused crease between her eyebrows and his giant dog sprawled over her lap.

"Yes," he insists decidedly. "No. I don't know."

Even more frustrated than before, because he doesn't know what to do or say, he plops down beside her. Much closer now than before his phone call, almost close enough that their shoulders are touching.

"It's kinda hard to explain," he finally settles on, voice calm and measured again.

"Well, it looks like we still have some time, so why don't you just try?" Just like before, her voice is full of genuine interest and patience and Oliver finds himself actually wanting to explain everything to her. So he does.

"Arcus is an amazing dog. He's kind and loving and the best dog I could ever ask for," he starts off and then stops, deciding to go back to the beginning. "I already told you that Thea gave him to me three years ago. He was still a puppy, but he didn't come from a breeder. Thea found him in an animal shelter she volunteered at and instantly fell in love with him. Some of her fellow volunteers found him on their doorstep without any clue where he came from or why he was there or what had happened to him. They warned Thea and me that there could be unforeseen underlying psychological issues that stem from his first few weeks in his life. But by that time, I had already fallen in love with him, too, and was determined to give him the best home possible."

He looks up from where Felicity's nimble fingers are gentle raking through his dog's fur, the rhythmic motion soothing both owner and dog in a way that he hasn't experienced before. He swallows heavily and meets her steady gaze that is silently encouraging him to go on.

"Usually he's not great with strangers," he continues with a thoughtful frown. "He's not hostile or anything, but he tends to just ignore everybody who's not me, Tommy or Thea. For a while in the beginning, I could just bring him to set or press conferences and he'd just stay in my trailer or lie down by my feet and sleep for the duration of the interviews. But for some reason he started being more difficult this past year. He gets really antsy when I leave him alone for too long and I had to stop bringing him to interviews because he kept barking all the time."

"Hmm, sounds like this little troublemaker doesn't like sharing his daddy's attention," Felicity surmises.

He chuckles in response. "Yeah, and seeing him like this with you comes as a complete surprise to say the least. Even Tommy and Thea still have to bribe him with treats every time they come over to look after him."

She grins widely at him and then whispers conspiratorially, "Don't tell anyone, but being a dog whisperer is my real occupation, the IT stuff is just a front."

"Ha, I would actually believe that," he agrees playfully, motioning down at his dog who is still as happy as can be in her lap. It's even more surprising that Felicity doesn't seem to have any qualms about having a big, 110 pound ball of fur using her as his pillow.

Before she can continue their banter, the lights flicker back on and a jolt goes through the elevator car, bringing it back to its normal speed, carrying them slowly but surely to the ground floor.

Oliver stands up and holds out his hand for Felicity to take. She smiles gratefully at him and makes sure Arcus is free and clear of her legs before letting Oliver pull her up into a standing position.

She's much smaller than he remembers; the top of her head is barely reaching the same level as his chin. He lets his eyes glide down her body, finally reaching her feet. Ah, there's the missing puzzle piece.

She's about to let go off his hand when he tightens his fingers around hers, drawing her attention to his face.

"Your shoes," he reminds her.

"Oh, right, duh" she says with a huff and bends down to step back into her heels one by one, balancing her body with the help of his hand. "Thank you. I guess chivalry isn't dead after all."

He beams down at her. "I try my best, Miss Smoak."

"And your efforts are very much appreciated, Mr. Queen," she retorts without missing a beat.

And then the doors of their metal cage finally open after, he glances down at his watch, an hour and four minutes and they're being welcomed into the lobby by the building manager and the doorman who are fussing over them to make sure they're okay.

After assuring them countless times that no harm had come to them, they're finally allowed to leave, which is definitely a good thing, judging by Arcus' insistent tugging on his leash. Poor guy's bladder is probably about to burst.

Oliver follows his dog as he makes a beeline for the closest tree on the sidewalk in front of their building, finally relieving himself. He whirls around when he feels a tap on his shoulder, coming face to face with Felicity who's grinning up at him.

"Urgent business?" she asks with an amused smile.

"Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to just run away from you, but nature was definitely calling."

"That's what I figured." She breaks eye contact then and starts fidgeting with the zipper of her coat, biting her lip in silent contemplation. Not for the first time in the last hour he wonders what is going on in that pretty head of hers.

She clears her throat and looks back up to meet his eyes. "I really don't mean to force myself on you or overstep any boundaries, since, even after being stuck in the elevator together for the past hour, we don't really know each other, but you said you were in a pinch with Arcus tomorrow and since he and I seem to share some kind of bond I thought I could offer…"

She trails off and lifts her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose with two perfectly manicured fingers. "You know what? Never mind. This was a stupid idea. I'm just… gonna go and leave you two to… do your thing." She motions vaguely towards the park entrance on the other side of the road, and gives him a tight, awkward smile before turning around and starting to leave.

His brain takes a few precious seconds to piece together what she just said. Did she really just try to offer to look after his dog tomorrow?

He's pretty sure she did.

Could he actually trust her?

Her instant connection with Arcus is undeniable and completely unprecedented to this point, but just because his dog felt comfortable to be petted by her doesn't mean that he would actually listen to her commands while going on a walk without Oliver being present. Or that she'd be able to control a 110 pound dog that she has no experience with. So even the sheer idea of the whole thing is ludicrous.

Right?

Right!

And yet, a voice in the back of his head is telling him that she'd be the best option. The chances of some stranger from a dog walking service hitting it off with Arcus like she just did are slim to none. He can't _not_ go to the interviews tomorrow, but he's also under strict instructions from his agent to not bring his dog. And finally, his two other dog-sitting options, Thea and Tommy, are both out of town.

So, really, what other choice does he have? It's at least worth a try, right?

"Felicity!" he exclaims suddenly and whirls around to follow her.

He spots her a mere thirty feet ahead of him just as she's in the process of getting into the backseat of a sleek, black town car, a seriously _built_ African-American man in a suit holding her door open. She stops midway and awkwardly scrambles back into a standing position. He would've probably laughed if he wasn't so busy not tripping over his dog or his leash while making his way over to her.

"What's up?" she asks, uncertain smile playing on her lips.

"Uh, I… were you just offering to look after Arcus tomorrow?" he stammers out and wow, isn't he one smooth bastard?

"I was about to when I realized that it was highly unlikely that you'd take me up on it and I didn't wanna make it any more awkward than my rambling already made it," she explains with a little huff.

"Well, if your offer still stands…" She nods eagerly, bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Then I'd be happy to talk about it a little more. Maybe the three of us could go for a walk together and see how that goes and then just… go from there?"

"Of course," she agrees immediately, unknowingly lifting a huge weight that had settled on his chest with the eager and happy smile that appears on her lips. "Do you wanna do that now or later?"

"If you got time you could join us now, but I don't want to keep you from going wherever you were headed to," he assures her, motioning to the car.

"Ehh, I'm sure Mr. Diggle won't mind getting back to his crossword puzzle for a little while longer," she says, throwing a cheeky grin to the other man who nods his head good-naturedly.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you on your walk, Ms. Smoak?" 'Mr. Diggle' asks, giving Oliver a sideways glance full of skepticism.

Felicity quickly puts a reassuring hand on the other man's crossed arms. "Don't worry, Dig, I'll be fine."

She turns back to Oliver then and starts digging into her handbag, grinning happily when she finds a pair of black and white ballet flats. Without hesitation, he holds out his hand to her again to help her while she's changing into her new footwear.

"Thank you again," she tells him and lets go of his hand once she's done.

"You're wel-" His eyes drift down to her feet. "Wait, are those pandas?"

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for the amazing response to the first chapter! I can't tell you how much I appreciate everybody's unwavering support and the kind words you sent me!
> 
> Happy New Year! Let's get 2016 started with a really long chapter, shall we?
> 
> Happy reading and a wonderful weekend to y'all!
> 
> P.S.: [imusuallyobsessed](http://imusuallyobsessed.tumblr.com/post/136354374313/live-blogging-fanfiction-start-of-something-new) , I read your live blog of my first chapter of SOSN and I fucking LOVED it! THANK YOU! I couldn't have asked for a better start into 2016 and I'm totally considering that as an early birthday gift. Tomorrow, I'll finally have the time to sit down and craft a proper reply ;)

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

Felicity is nervous. Like, _seriously_ nervous.

What the hell has she gotten herself into?

What had possessed her when she'd offered Oliver Fucking Queen to look after his beloved dog?

Or maybe the real question was what had possessed Oliver Fucking Queen to take her up on said offer?

She lets her eyes glide over her apartment that she just spent a solid hour cleaning. A testament to how nervous she really is. She hates cleaning enough to have a cleaning service come in every few days to take that pesky task off her hands. But tonight she's reminded that cleaning can also have something almost cathartic about it; plus, it distracted her from the impending arrival of one of the most successful and acclaimed movie stars of her generation.

Her eyes land on the clock on the wall in her now spotless kitchen: 7.55.

Five more minutes to contemplate her life decisions.

Oh, good God, what had she been _thinking_?

Deep down, she knows the answer to that question, of course.

She's a helpful person by nature. She's always loved helping people, whether it was their neighbor who needed help with going to the grocery store when she was still living in Vegas, repairing her friends' computers, or baby-sitting Dig's daughter when her parents needed some much needed time off. Bottom line, she likes to help.

So when she'd heard Oliver talk to his friend on the phone, sounding increasingly desperate, while she'd effortlessly hit it off with Arcus, that innate instinct had kicked in.

So once they'd gotten out of the tin can, she'd offered, or rather, started to offer her help before she caught herself. After only a few words she'd cut herself off, realizing that her offer didn't make any sense. Just because they'd spent some time stuck in an elevator together and she'd gotten along with his dog, didn't mean anything. Especially not that he'd be crazy enough to actually let her look after his dog.

She'd tried to hightail it out there, backtracking and quickly making a dash for Dig who'd been waiting at the curb patiently.

And then the unthinkable had happened. Oliver had called after her, and after some stammering he'd completely taken her by surprise when he'd accepted her offer.

They'd spent the next hour in the fenced-in dog park just across the street from their building, playing with Arcus and running through a few drills with him to see how he'd react to her commands. It had been hilarious to watch Oliver's face light up with confusion and surprise every time his dog obediently did whatever she asked of him. Whether he was on or off his leash, Arcus hung onto her every word.

At some point, Oliver's disbelieving headshakes had turned into a proud smile that lit up his handsome face. With the long, intense glances he spared her quite regularly, she wasn't sure if his pride was really only focused on his dog for trusting someone else, or if maybe some of it was reserved for her for making such quick progress with his dog.

A knock on her front door rips her abruptly from her thoughts and back into the present.

Holy crap, he's here.

He's actually here.

Breathe, Smoak, just breathe.

After one last glance through her apartment to check if any possibly embarrassing things are safely stowed away, she opens the door with a nervous smile.

Arcus is sitting next to his owner, happily thwacking his tail against the hardwood floor. Oliver is carrying a box and a ginormous dog bed, wearing a nervous smile that probably mirrors hers when he greets her.

She quickly ushers the two inside and together they set up the food and water bowls in the kitchen and the dog bed in the living room, right next to her couch.

"Do you have time for a cup of coffee or do you need to run?" she asks casually, making her way back into the kitchen.

"I wish, but my agent sent a driver that is waiting downstairs," Oliver sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "I think we discussed everything last night, but if you have any questions…" he prompts.

Ah, yes, last night. After their session with Arcus in the park earlier that day, they'd agreed to meet again at the same spot for an evening walk to go over everything important. It had gone just as smoothly as that morning, erasing most of her doubts about the whole thing.

"I think I'm good," she says with a smile. "You already fed and walked him this morning, right?" He nods in confirmation. "Alright, so he'll get a couple of those big dog biscuits around noon and I'll take him for a walk. And if you're not back by 6, we'll go for another walk."

Oliver nods, smiling down at her, some of his nervousness easing from his features. "I guess you got it all handled." He reaches into his suit jacket and takes out a piece of paper, handing it to her. "These are the numbers for his vet and my cell phone, just in case anything happens."

She tilts her head to the side with wide eyes. Oliver Queen is giving her his phone number?

She waves the piece of paper playfully in front of him. "You know I could probably make a shitload of money with this," she teases.

He grins at her, unfazed by her playful threat. "Two reasons why I'm not concerned about that: one, with your computer skills, I'm sure that if you really want to find something as simple as  someone's phone number it'll only take you a few keystrokes."

"True," she throws in with a cocky smile.

"And, two, I'm letting you look after my dog today, so clearly, I trust you," he finishes and his eyes darken a little.

Her mouth goes dry.

How is it even possible for a mere mortal to be this goddamn attractive?

It's not fair to the rest of the male population that there are men like Oliver Queen running around this world. Who could ever compete with _all that_?

While she's lusting after him in her thoughts, Oliver moves over to Arcus who's been happily waiting on his dog bed.

He kneels down in front of him, scratching the dog behind his ears. "Alright, buddy, the moment of truth. You'll be a good boy today, okay? Do what Felicity tells you to do. Don't give her a hard time, you hear me?" The dog looks up at him with big, adoring eyes and the scene in front of her is so precious that she takes a quick photo of the pair.

With one last ruffle through the dog's fur he gets up and turns back to her. "Time to go and face the vultures," he says with a dramatic sigh.

"It can't be that bad," Felicity counters. "You're getting paid for sitting around and talking about your movie, right?"

"Yeah, I guess, but I still hate these interview days. You sit in a stuffy room, lights burning into your skin, and stupid reporters that haven't even seen the movie asking equally stupid questions. It'd be fine if they just stayed on course, but eventually they all start asking questions about my personal life, even though they all know that that's off limits."

She huffs out a humorless laugh. "But that's so much more important than talking about your movie," she pushes in a teasing tone. "Why would they be interested in talking about how you portray the true story of a hockey player who made a miraculous comeback after suffering through a heartbreaking tragedy, when they _could_ ask you about who you're sleeping with these days? Priorities, Oliver, priorities," she tells him, sarcasm dripping from her words while she's emphasizing her statement by poking him lightly in the chest.

He stares at her, his mouth hanging open, and for one second she thinks she's taken it too far, but then his lips curl into a beautiful smile and he shakes his head. "It's not like there's anything happening in my personal life anyway," he mutters under his breath, but she still catches it, filing away that particular tidbit of information for… later. "You're remarkable, Felicity," he says louder, catching her by surprise.

From the sudden heat in her cheeks she knows she must be blushing furiously.

 _Way to keep it together, Smoak_ , she scolds herself.

"Thanks, I guess?" she breathes out, all of her nervousness rushing back with a vengeance.

He winks at her in response. He fucking winks!

Never mind the bursting feeling in her stomach; that's just her ovaries exploding. No biggie.

He opens the door and takes one step, but turns around and leans casually against the frame. "So you know what my new movie is about, huh?" he asks with a self-satisfied smirk.

Cocky bastard.

And is he actually flirting with her right now? Lord help her, this man is gonna kill her.

"I…" she scrambles for an answer that doesn't make her look like she's a total fangirl of him. "I clicked on the trailer by accident a few months ago. And Ray Palmer is one of my favorite actors and he's really hot." Lie, lie, and another lie. She actually _doesn't_ like him and definitely doesn't think he's hot, _especially_ compared to Oliver.

His smirk disappears and he frowns unhappily at her for a second, searching her eyes. She's not sure what he finds there, but after a few seconds his smirk returns and he shrugs, "He's a douche, but I'm sure I could get you an autograph if you'd like."

Yeah, he looked right through her bullshit and called her bluff. And her horrified look at his offer is definitely not helping matters.

"That's what I thought," he says when she doesn't reply.

Trying to steer the conversation to more pleasant topics, she voices a thought, "Oh, I have an idea. Give me your phone and I'll put in my number. That way when you're bored or you wanna check up on Arcus you can just text or call."

"Good idea," he says and hands over his phone before continuing, "I can't thank you enough for what you're doing, Felicity. You're an absolute life saver."

"Don't worry about it, Oliver," she reassures him and hands back his phone. "I'm glad I can help."

"Either way, thank you! I'll see the two of you tonight."

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Three hours later, Felicity finds herself lying on her couch, her sides hurting from laughing so hard. But it's not the action-packed political thriller (one of Oliver's movies from a few years ago) on her TV that has her in stitches. No, it's Arcus who'd taken up his position right in front of her TV as soon as the first scene had started. Whenever Oliver enters the screen, his loyal companion starts barking or whining.

It's incredible to watch the big, black dog seemingly react to what's happening to his owner on screen. When a particularly sad scene starts, in which Oliver's character holds his dying wife in his arms, Arcus jumps up from the floor and comes to the couch, burying his nose in Felicity's stomach and whining softly. For a moment she's not sure if he's looking for some comfort because he's feeling for his owner's anguish on screen or because he's trying to give her some support while she's sobbing along as the scene unfolds.

Either way, they give each other comfort and Arcus doesn't leave her side for the rest of the movie.

By the time lunch time comes around and after watching another one of Oliver's movies, she feels like she's established a pretty impressive emotional bond with the dog who completely refuses to be more than two feet away from her. A fact that had made for a very interesting experience when she'd had to go to the bathroom after the first movie.

But at least his clingy behavior gives her a good feeling for their walk later, thinking that if he's this attentive she'll have no problem with him following her commands when out in the open.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

She takes a deep breath, chancing one last glance at the dog who's obediently sitting by her feet, and steps out of the rotating doors of her building.

 _Keep calm, Smoak, everything worked well yesterday, so it'll go great today. You got nothing to worry about. Arcus is gonna be an angel for you,_ she tells herself.

Tightening the hold on her end of the leash she quickly crosses the street, Arcus trotting along happily as they enter the park. She can feel her nervousness slowly ebb away with every step they take on the paved walkway, a sense of sureness taking its place.

After strolling around the park leisurely for half an hour, they reach the dog park and Arcus' longing eyes are glued to the other dogs that are running around freely in there, fetching high flying Frisbees and balls for their owners.

She quickly kneels down beside him, scratching his ears in apology. "Sorry, buddy, but your daddy and I agreed that I wouldn't let you off your leash."

He gives her a pitiful look with those big brown eyes of his that almost has her give in.

 _You're not gonna give into his admittedly super cute puppy look, Smoak. Stay on track,_ she scolds herself.

Closing her eyes, she wills herself to get up and move away from the temptation before Arcus remembers that he's probably stronger than her and could just drag her over to the other dogs if he really wanted.

She sits down on an empty bench right by the edge of the little lake that makes up most of the eastern part of the park. Arcus sits on the ground in front of her, his watchful eyes drifting over the lake while sticking his nose into the wind.

He looks quite majestic like that, the gentle breeze just adding to his natural grace and beauty. His long black coat of fur is interrupted by medium blond markings on his chest, around his mouth, on his throat, along all four legs, even the tail has blond markings on the underside and finally there are little dots where his eyebrows would be. Despite his large size and sturdiness, the striking mix of colors makes him look more approachable and less intimidating. She thinks especially his prominent eyebrows add to his special character.

It still hasn't really sunken in that she's dog-sitting for Hollywood royalty right now. It's just too surreal to think that not even 24 hours ago, she was trapped in an elevator with none other than Oliver Queen who apparently and true to her neighbor's tales really lives in her building.

And it's the same Oliver Queen that she'd had her first major crush on when she was 15 and he'd landed his first big movie role as a heartthrob in a Disney movie. Back then she'd spent more than one night tossing and turning, dreaming of meeting him one day.

Looking back at how flustered she'd felt yesterday when her naïve and unrealistic teenage dreams had finally come true, she's not one hundred percent sure if her crush on him had ever fully receded. Then again, nowadays, he's on a whole different level of swoon worthy. Over the years his slightly gangly body had morphed into that of a chiseled Greek god, his once smooth face is now home to that delicious short stubble, and his floppy haircut has been replaced by a much shorter one that would still be long enough to hold onto while kissing him. Not that she's ever thought of doing that…

"Hello, pretty lady," a deep voice asks, just as a man sits down next to her. Way too close for her comfort.

She turns towards the source of her sudden discomfort. The man is probably in his early forties, clean shaven, wearing a suit, probably a businessman from one of the companies that line the south end of the park. She groans inwardly, not interested in having her quiet day be interrupted by unwanted attention.

Her silence doesn't deter him in the slightest. "I couldn't believe it when I walked by and saw someone as gorgeous as you sitting here all alone and I just had to come over. I'm Jackson."

"Ah, well, I'm not actually alone and I was just enjoying some peace and quiet," she replies with a smile that feels more like a grimace. Hint, hint, hint.

He leans forward, peaking down at Arcus who's eyeing him suspiciously. "Cute dog. Doesn't really suit you, though. I'd have expected something smaller and more delicate."

"He's actually my… boyfriend's dog," she lies as confidently as she can.

'Jackson' scoffs, "Some boyfriend that must be. Leaving you out of his eyes for even a second should be considered a crime. I'd never do that."

Okay, now he's really starting to piss her off.

"Look, Jackson, I've established that I have a boyfriend," she says, trying to keep her voice in check. "That means I'm not interested in you or anyone else that isn't him. Do I make myself clear?"

Maybe it's the change in her tone or the sudden tension in her body that alerts Arcus that something isn't right. He gets up on all fours, coming closer to her and laying his head into her lap with a little whine.

The stranger considers her words for a second and shrugs his shoulders. "How about I give you my number and when you realize that you _are_ interested in someone else, you give me a call."

"No, thank you."

That's when he makes the crucial mistake of putting one of his hands on her shoulder. In an instant, Arcus lifts his head, previously soft eyes turning dark as he zeroes in on the man. A low, rumbling growl comes from somewhere deep in his belly and he bares his impressive set of teeth.

The effect is immediate: the man whips away his hand like he was burned, scrambling up from his seat and a few feet away from the bench. Arcus promptly positions himself between the two humans.

"Arcus, sit," Felicity commands, trying to diffuse the situation a little, taken aback by the protectiveness of the dog.

The dog sits down by her feet, never taking his eyes off the stranger.

"I suggest you leave," she tells the man. "And next time,  _listen_ when a woman tells you 'no'."

He gapes down at her with wide eyes for a couple of seconds and then takes off without another word, not seeing her triumphant smile.

Arcus looks back at her, completely relaxed, wagging his tail and looking like nothing happened. She bends down and lets her hands dive into the soft fur on his neck and up to his ears. A 'thank you' he gladly accepts.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

That particular experience in the park only seems to manifest the bond between the blonde and the dog even more. With a newfound sense of certainty and comfort they make their way back to her apartment to enjoy the rest of their day together.

Halfway through the afternoon that she uses to catch up on some of her work emails, her phone dings with an incoming message.

**Oliver: How's it going so far? –O.**

She grins uncontrollably down at her phone when a part of brain reminds her that _Oliver Queen_ is texting her.

**Felicity: Going great. Arcus is my hero :-)**

**Oliver: Not that I doubt that he's awesome but what did he do?**

**Felicity: Defended my honor against some creep!**

His response doesn't even take five seconds.

**Oliver: What? Are u okay?**

**Felicity: We're both good. I'll tell you all about it when you get home. But thanks for worrying!**

**Oliver: Okay! My next interview is about to start. See you later. Stay away from any more creeps ;-)**

She huffs out a laugh. Definitely!

**Felicity: I will. See u later :-)**

_How_ is this her life, again?

She's about to put her phone away when it starts buzzing insistently in her hand, the all too familiar photo on the screen telling her that it's her best friend calling.

"Hey, Cait," she greets cheerfully. "What's up?"

"Hey, Lis, Iris and I just decided to go to the afternoon showing of Dancing In The Moonlight. Wanna join us in drooling over Oliver Queen while he dances around shirtless?"

Oh boy. Does she tell her best friend about her new… affiliation with Oliver? If she doesn't and Cait finds out on her own she's gonna be pissed.

"I mean I know we've already seen the movie… twice, but I kinda wanna ogle his abs again on a 70 foot screen before they release the DVD," her friend continues on, oblivious to her inner battle of wills. "Ooooh, by the way, was any other neighbor ever able to confirm that he really lives in your building? How amazing would it be if you ever ran in to him?"

That would be amazing alright.

Felicity clears her throat uncomfortably. "I… uh… I actually met him yesterday."

"Shut up. You didn't!" Caitlin exclaims and Felicity can basically see her friend's shocked expression.

"I did. We were stuck in an elevator for an hour," she continues cautiously.

"Oh god, I have to sit down," Cait says, her breathing getting more rapid. "You're not just messing with me, are you? That would be so cruel, Smoak."

"I'm not messing around. I was headed out to go to the office and he was already in the elevator with his dog. The doors closed and a few seconds later it just stopped and went completely dark," Felicity recounts what happened. "We started to talk, I made a complete fool of myself with one of my rambles and then I offered to look after his dog today while he's doing interviews for his new movie."

"You didn't!"

"Yup, I did. Don't ask me what possessed me to even think about offering that. I have no idea."

"So you're actually dog-sitting Oliver Queen's dog right now?"

"Yup."

"Crazy shit," Caitlin mutters in disbelief. She's definitely not wrong in her assessment of the situation. "So how is he?"

"Arcus is awesome. I mean he's ginormous, but at the same time he's super cute and gentle and he's really well-trained. He just does whatever I ask him to do," Felicity gushes, trying to somehow avoid answering her friend's actual question.

"You know damn well that I was talking about Oliver. How is he in real life?" Cait admonishes.

Damn it.

"He's… nice" Felicity cautiously settles on.

"Nice? You talked to one of the biggest superstars on our planet for _an hour_ and all you have to say about him is that he's _nice_? Come on, Lis, spill!"

She sighs, debating how much she can tell her friend. "He was… I don't know… nice and friendly. It was easy to talk to him and he actually kinda teased me after my ramble, but in a nice way, not in 'I need to get away from this crazy girl' way, you know?"

"Oh, honey, you're smitten," Cait sighs.

"Well, yeah, he's… Oliver Queen. I think anyone would be smitten by him. He's very… suave. And I mean, honestly, he's even more handsome in person." She shakes her head, remembering seeing his chiseled features up close. "It's almost ridiculous how handsome he is."

"And what was his smitten level? Did you get to lay your Smoak charm on him?" Caitlin teases.

Felicity scoffs in response. "Yeah, sure, while I wasn't rambling about one thing or another, or practically drooling over him, I was totally working it. It's a miracle he even left my apartment and didn't just fuck me against the door," she replies facetiously.

"So he didn't try to flirt with you at all?"

"I mean, he kinda flirted a little bit," she says with a frown, thinking back to this morning's wink and yesterday's teasing tone. "But I think that's just his default setting. He must be so used to women temporarily losing all brain power around him that he just rolls with it and gives them a little flirty-flirt to satisfy them. It's probably all part of the Oliver Queen experience."

"Is that what it felt like?" Her friend probes, and damn her for knowing her so well. "Like he was just flirting with you to uphold his reputation?"

"No… I don't know. Maybe? I don't know him well enough to say if he was real or just doing what everyone expects him to do," Felicity says, her frown deepening.

"Look, Lis, all I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't write him off based on speculations and what we've seen in tabloids about him. Maybe he's a completely different guy when he's not in the spotlight."

"This was probably just a one-time thing anyway with looking after Arcus. He just didn't have anyone else, and the two of us kinda hit it off. After today I probably won't even talk to him again," she replies, her voice dropping down to a whisper.

And isn't that the real fear here? That talking to her in the elevator and taking her up on her offer was just a convenient solution for him after he found out that he didn't have anyone else to dog-sit? Sure, he was nice and flirty and even shared a little bit about himself, but maybe all of that was just a game to him. Lead her on a little bit and pass the time while they were stuck. And, yeah sure, he seemed to be genuine and nice, but then again, he's also an Academy Award winning actor. Tricking her into believing that he's a nice, down-to-earth guy would be the easiest thing for him.

And what if all of the above is complete bullshit and just some of her insecurities coming through? What if he's actually interested in her? Or at least a little bit intrigued? His reactions to her rambles and teasing had felt like they were genuine. Is that really something he could just fake so well on the spot?

She wants to believe that the Oliver that she met yesterday and this morning is the _real_ Oliver. The one behind all of Hollywood's phoniness and all the tabloids that make him out to be an arrogant and self-assured womanizer that has slept his way around all of Hollywood.

Here's to hoping, right?

"Alright, let's move onto other topics and talk about that new software idea that you wanted to tell me about," Caitlin prompts and yanks Felicity out of her thoughts who gladly jumps in to discuss her new concept.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW** **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Oliver takes a deep breath when he exits the town car that brought him home after a day filled with seemingly endless interviews. He'd lost count after the fifteenth one. He's just completely exhausted, but he also can't wait to see his dog again… and Felicity.

Just the thought of the blonde woman sends a thrilling shiver through his body. He can't remember the last time he'd actually enjoyed a conversation with a woman other than his sister or the last time he thought a woman was genuinely interesting. More often than not, the women that he'd gotten used to being around in Hollywood had been fake and superficial, trying and utterly failing to catch his interest. Sure, some of them were fun to spend a night or two with, but definitely nothing more substantial.

Shaking himself out of potentially dangerous thoughts, he focuses his attention on two familiar figures exiting the park and crossing the street. He adjusts the paper bags occupying both of his arms, taking in the welcome sight in front of him. Felicity is keeping up a constant stream of chatter, her eyes jumping from her surroundings to Arcus who seems to be thoroughly entertained. He's wagging his tail excitedly and there's a bounce in his step, his eyes practically glued to Felicity's lips.

Interesting.

"Felicity," he exclaims happily when they come closer. "Fancy meeting you here."

She smiles in return, "Hey, Oliver, you're back." Is that a little bit of disappointment in her voice?

"Don't sound so happy," he quips lightly, frowning down at his dog when he only wags his tail once upon seeing his owner and then proceeding to press his nose into Felicity's thigh.

"Well, it's not that I'm not happy to see you," she assures him quickly as they enter the building together. "But it also means that I'll have to say goodbye to Arcus soon."

"Yeah," he huffs out. "The two of you really seem to have hit it off."

"I'm still debating if I should dog-nap him and just make a run for it, keep him with me forever. He was a complete angel and I'm not sure I can part with him just yet," she gushes, one hand falling on top of the dog's head and scratching lightly.

"Well, I was hoping that you'd have dinner with me," Oliver suggests, holding up the two paper bags invitingly. "As a thank you and to give you two some time to say goodbye."

She bites her bottom lip in contemplation, a little wrinkle forming between her eyebrows, and he briefly considers if he said something wrong, but then a small smile settles on her lips and he takes a relieved breath.

"I'd like that. How about you come to my apartment. That way you can collect all of Arcus' things."

Despite her smile, there's something off about the way her voice stays a little flat and doesn't sound anything like the cheerfulness he'd encountered with her that morning. Maybe it's just his mind playing tricks on him after a long day.

"Sounds good," he says and presses the button for her floor with his elbow.

When they enter her apartment and she lets Arcus off his leash the dog immediately dashes to his bed that's placed right in front of her couch, acting like he's been doing the exact same thing his entire life and not just today.

Oliver follows Felicity into her kitchen and finally sets down the bags. "Do you like red wine?"

"Like it? I love it," she answers quickly with a bright smile. "I'll grab glasses and plates. Is it okay if we eat on the couch?"

"Of course, I'll bring over the food and properly say hi to Arcus," he says. "Need help with anything else?"

"Nope, I'm good. I figured you'd be itching to get your hands on him after being apart the whole day."

He scoffs. "An enthusiasm he doesn't seem to share," he throws over his shoulder as he makes his way back into the living room, setting down the bags on the coffee table and kneeling down beside his dog.

"Hey, buddy, you could at least pretend to be happy to see me," he chides playfully, scratching his dog's ears who promptly turns on his back and presents his chest for some more scratching. "At least that means that you were happy being here with Felicity, huh? Did you have a good time? I heard you protected her. That's my boy," he says proudly and gives him another pat before settling on the couch where Felicity has joined him with a playful smile on her lips.

"You still gotta tell me what happened," he reminds her, opening the bottle of red and pouring them both a glass while Felicity dishes them up some of the Italian food he'd brought along.

He lifts his glass in a silent toast and clinks it against hers. "Thank you, Felicity. I don't know what I would've done without your help today. You're an absolute lifesaver."

She blushes profusely, but still gives him a blinding smile. "You're welcome. I had an amazing day and would gladly look after Arcus again if you're ever in another bind."

After she takes a few bites of her food, she closes her eyes appreciatively. "Oh, this is fantastic food. I definitely need to know the name of this restaurant."

"It's actually this hole in the wall place in the North End called DiMario's where it's virtually impossible to get a table because they only have, like, five of them," he chuckles. "Luckily, I have an in with the owner and chef and if I call him early enough he whips up some of his magic for me. But in return he always tries to convince me to marry his daughter one day."

Her smile dims a little and she shifts around in her seat. "And you're not interested?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, she's beautiful and almost as amazing a cook as her father, but she's also been in a relationship for five years."

"Oh, and her father doesn't know?"

He laughs. "Ha, no, he knows. He just doesn't like the guy," he shrugs. "I think it has something to do with the fact that he's from the 'wrong' family. It's very Capulet vs Montague –esque, just  without all the heartbreaking tragedy."

"Oh, good old Shakespearean drama," she huffs out, taking on a horrible English accent as she continues, "For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

"So very true," he muses and takes another sip of his wine. "So, what happened with the creep you told me about earlier?"

"Oh," she waves her hand dismissively. "Just some guy that wouldn't take no for an answer. Arcus growled at him and made him run for the hills."

He raises his eyebrows in shock, once again taken aback by the seemingly instant bond that had formed between his dog and the blonde whirlwind. "He did?"

"Yup, I mean it's not like he got physical or anything, but him standing between the guy and me and showing his teeth definitely made an impression. He still listened to me when I told him to sit down, so I never actually felt like I'd lost control of him," she recounts what happened with a thoughtful frown, leaving Oliver stunned.

"He's definitely something else," he finally says, looking down at his dog who'd once again sneakily scooted closer to Felicity while they'd talked.

"I've honestly never seen him like this. So… taken by someone, I guess. It's quite interesting to see. And definitely a testament to what kind of an amazing person you are."

Her blush deepens again and she quickly deflects, clearly not comfortable to be complimented (or maybe just not used to it? Which is crazy because why wouldn't she be showered with compliments every day?), "So how was your day? Get through all the interviews unscathed?"

He shakes his head with lingering frustration. "It was as bad as I expected: boring reporters, boring questions, long day. But on the bright side I found out some of the most persistent rumors about me."

"Ooooh, do tell," she teases and picks up her wine glass, folding her feet under her legs on the couch.

He leans back with his own glass in hand. "Let's see. One of the reporters was sure that I've slept with every single one of my female co-leads of my last five movies, while another reporter was hell-bent on proving that I'm gay."

"I knew it! No straight man would ever look this good," she teases and then blushes, catching her slip. "What else?"

"Apparently, I use a body double for shirtless photoshoots and movie scenes," he continues with a wide grin.

She just snorts in response and mumbles "yeah, right"; a reaction that makes his chest swell with pride.

"And my favorite: I cheated on my ex-girlfriend with a plethora of women, one of them being her sister."

"Ouch," Felicity says with a grimace. "Not the case, I presume?"

He scoffs, "Quite the opposite actually. She cheated on me with at least two other guys before I found out and firmly kicked her out of my life."

She regards him with a disbelieving frown. "Back up for a second. You're telling me that a woman was in a relationship with you and still decided to cheat on you? Why?" Then she lays a warm hand on his forearm, a glimmer of mirth dancing in her eyes. "Wait, don't tell me you're lousy in bed. That would literally destroy every single fantasy any woman ever had about you."

He knows that she's teasing, but he still feels the need to defend his skills. "I'm very good in bed, thank you very much," he replies with an overdone arrogant tilt to his voice.

She raises her eyebrows questioningly. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

"You deeply wound my male pride, Felicity," he says and places a hand over his heart. "First you criticize my choice of movie roles and now you're questioning my bedroom skills. You're brutal, Ms. Smoak, absolutely brutal."

She has the audacity to shrug carelessly in response, throwing him a cheeky grin. "Just keeping you on your toes, Mr. Queen."

"And keeping me on my toes you do well," he concedes with happiness bubbling in his chest.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

It's hours later, their food and the bottle of wine (plus another one) long gone, when he finally gathers up his dog's things and heads towards the door. He's not sure which one of the three is more disappointed that the evening is coming to an end.

"I still don't understand how the two of you managed to become this close so quickly," he wonders out loud while watching Felicity crouch down next to Arcus and give him a hug.

She looks up at him, arms still wrapped around his dog. Is it irrational to feel jealous of a dog? "I have talented fingers," she explains, sifting one hand through Arcus' long fur. "From typing," she's quick to add with a blush. "Plus, we really bonded when we watched two of your movies this morning."

"You did?" he asks a little too eagerly.

Very smooth.

"Yup, bawled my eyes out when you held your dying movie wife's body in One More Day, but luckily Arcus was kind enough to share my sorrows and cuddled with me for the rest of the movie." She looks down at the dog thoughtfully. "I think I really worried him with that one."

"How's that?"

"He became really clingy after that, almost like he was scared to leave me on my own. That made for an interesting situation when I wanted to go to the bathroom, but he wouldn't leave my side."

"So what did you do?"

She smirks up at him. "Maybe he will tell you."

"Mhh, I'm sure he will. It doesn't look like it right now with him practically falling over backwards to please you and acting like a lovesick puppy, but usually we have a very manly bond where we chill on my couch and share our feelings with each other while sipping bourbon," he jokes, eliciting a delighted laugh from the blonde woman.

"Oh, I can totally see you doing that," she quips and walks past him to open the door. "Come on, Arcus, time to go home."

The dog sits down defiantly in her foyer, exchanging pitiful looks between Oliver and his new favorite person. Oliver hides a smile. He really can't fault his dog for wanting to stay a little longer, he'd love to do the same, but he's also tired as hell and he'd watched Felicity suppress almost a dozen yawns before he'd announced that he'd head home.

"Oh, before I forget it," he says, giving his dog a few more seconds to come to terms with leaving. "I brought you an autograph from your crush object Ray Palmer. I left it on the kitchen counter."

He takes an almost sick amount of pleasure in the way her face morphs into a grimace of disgust when he mentions the other actor's name. Of course, he'd already seen through her bullshit line that morning that Palmer was her favorite actor and that she thought he was hot, but seeing her reaction now is still very satisfying.

She clears her throat and manages a somewhat neutral expression. "Thanks, that's really… nice. I'll put it somewhere safe," she replies through gritted teeth, adding in an almost inaudible whisper, "Somewhere where I don't ever have to see his arrogant face."

"No problem," he counters with a wide grin. "Alright, Arcus, time's up. We're going upstairs."

His dog actually fucking _sighs_ before getting up, making another stop to get a quick rub from Felicity before stepping out into the hall.

"Thank you again, Felicity," Oliver says earnestly. "Not just for looking after Arcus today but also for giving this otherwise sucky day a really fun ending."

She mirrors his smile. "Well, you have my number. Whenever you need someone for Arcus, I'm just a call or text away," she assures him.

He appreciates her offer, he really does, but he also feels a pang of disappointment when she doesn't suggest hanging out with _him_ again. Did she not have a good time with him?

"Thank you, Felicity. Have a good night," he finally whispers, and even he can hear the hint of disappointment in his tone.

"Good night, Oliver. See you soon."

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	3. Chapter 3

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Oliver steps out of the walk-in closet adjoining his bedroom in his running gear, ready for his early morning run. Well, as ready as anyone can be a 6 o’clock in the morning.

Good god, does he hate this. Usually, when he’s filming or preparing for a role, he has no problem with his workout regimen, even looking forward to shutting off his brain for an hour every day and using the physical exertion as a welcome reprieve from his daily routine. But now, three months into his year of not doing much of anything, his body is starting to kick and scream whenever he forces himself to go running or do a round of exercises in the building’s gym.

He snatches up the leash and whistles through the dark apartment to alert his dog, still shielded by the blackout blinds on all windows to keep out the first rays of sunlight. He stops midway through his living room to listen for a sign that Arcus is waking up, but he doesn’t hear anything.

“Arcus?” he shouts, a frown forming on his features. He’d been surprised when he’d gotten up earlier and hadn’t seen his dog in his usual spot next to his bed, but at the time he’d simply chalked it up to Arcus wandering around at night.

His eyes drift over the empty apartment, searching the dark nooks and crevices for Arcus, which is easier said than done when you’re looking for a mostly black dog.

His eyes land on the front door. The _open_ front door. Fuck.

He grabs his keys from the little table in his foyer and rushes out into the hallway, eyes frantically searching for his dog, but coming up empty.

Think, Oliver, think! Where could he have gone?

He knows that his dog is smart, but is he smart enough to somehow use the elevator? Doubtful. But then how did he leave this floor? Of course, the staircase at the far end!

He pushes through the door to the emergency stairs, groaning loudly when he realizes that if push comes to shove he’ll have to go through all 35 floors of this building. Thinking methodically, he decides to start at the top, running up the remaining stairs to the top floor where the gym and spa area are located, two stories above his apartment. One glance at the firmly shut door, secured by a keycard lock that Arcus couldn’t possibly bypass, tells him that his dog isn’t there.

Two down, thirty-three to go.

He quickly checks his own floor again while making his way downstairs. With long strides he reaches the next door, frowning when he sees that there’s a little wedge keeping the door that’s connecting the staircase and the floor ajar.

He pulls open the door and lets out a sigh of relief when he spots his dog a little ways down the hall, curled up on a door mat. But not just any door mat. Nope! _Felicity’s_ door mat, he realizes with a mixture of panic and delight rising in his chest.

“Arcus,” he hisses, “come here!”

His dog lifts his head lazily for exactly four seconds before putting it back down, not even moving an inch towards his owner.

Oliver scowls at his dog and slowly approaches. “Really, Arcus, _really_? You’re just gonna stay there on Felicity’s door mat and play lovesick puppy? Fine, suit yourself,” he grumbles and comes to a stop in front of his dog. “You know it’s not gonna change anything, buddy. It’s probably much too early for her to be up and even if she were up for some reason, it seems like we’re not very high on her talk-to list right now.”

Arcus huffs out a breath through his black nose and turns his head away from his owner. Oliver crouches down in front of him and combs his fingers through the long black fur before quickly attaching the leash to the collar while his dog is distracted.

“Look, man, you know you can’t just run around the building like this. You’re gonna get us kicked out of here if Mrs. Williams were to see you.” When there’s no reaction from his dog, he sighs and continues in a whisper, “I miss her, too, okay?”

As soon as the words have left his mouth, he clamps his lips shut in surprise. Where had that thought come from?

Not that it’s not true. Because it is, he realizes as an unfamiliar feeling settles in his stomach.

He does miss her, even though the logical part of his brain tells him that it shouldn’t really be possible because he’d only spent a few hours with her. He doesn’t even really know her!

But isn’t that the key point? He doesn’t know much about her, but the little that he does know only serves to make her seem genuinely interesting and intriguing. So much so that he finds himself longing to find out more about her. _Really_ get to know her.

Only question is if she wants to get to know him, too.

Yes, she seemed to be flirting back when he’d gotten into a little more flirty territory when they’d had dinner at her place. And yes, she’d stroked his ego quite a bit when she’d let it slip that she thought he was attractive. But all the while there had been an underlying uneasiness seeping through her bubbly front, like she was unsure about what she was saying and doing while she was around him.

It’s interesting, really. After all, his first assessment of her had been that she wasn’t his type. A premature judgment that had been solely based on her looks that don't line up with his usual type of tall and brunette. He’s man enough to admit now that his first impression of her had changed very quickly once they’d started talking.

He’s not sure what it is about her that makes her so… appealing. It’s much more than her good looks, she’s beautiful for sure, but in a less conventional way. She’s a kind of beautiful that seems more natural and effortless than anything he’d gotten used to during his years living and working in Hollywood.

He’d only seen her twice in the last two weeks, both encounters had been very brief and basically just a quick ‘hi’ in passing as she was heading to work. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise that he didn’t see her more often; after all, it had taken them a month of living in the same building before they’d met for the first time. So it’s not surprise, but rather a lingering feeling of disappointment that has permanently settled in his chest.

He’d been tempted to call or at least text her, but every time he’d picked up his phone his fingers seemed to cramp up in hesitation and uncertainty. What the hell was he supposed to say?

He’d barely managed to reply to her when she’d send him a pic of him and Arcus the day after the dog-sitting.

 **Almost forgot to send you this. Hope you enjoy – F.** was all that was attached to the picture of him kneeling in front of his sitting dog and giving him the last minute instructions on how to behave.

All he’d managed was a weak and unimaginative **Thank you, I didn’t even realize you took a pic.**

Her instant reply, saying **I’m sneaky that way ;)** had effectively left the ball in his court, one that he’d failed to pick up.

That winky smiley is the last thing he’d gotten from her this whole time and he wants to kick his own butt for not coming up with a good response or trying to talk to her again a few days later.

“Come on, Arcus, we’re leaving,” he urges his dog, emphasizing his point by giving the leash a tug as he stands up. “Tell you what,” he bargains –and is he really trying to make a deal with his dog?- when he takes in Arcus’ less than enthusiastic reaction. “I’ll call her later and see if I can convince her to come to the park with us tonight.”

He’s not sure if it’s his offer or the impatient tugging on the leash that finally motivates his dog to move, and he doesn’t really care. Because then and there he decides he will call Felicity later. Maybe seeing her again will help him find some answers.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

It’s only when his feet hit the ground rhythmically, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, and he feels the burn of his muscles that all thoughts of Felicity and the maybe/maybe not attraction between them fall away and make room for blissful emptiness. For once, he’s thinking of nothing other than the steady beat of his feet against the pavement.

A sudden tug on the leash in his hand rips him out of the blankness, and before he can fully process what’s happening, Arcus has already taken off at breakneck speed. The leash that was previously in his owner’s hand is uselessly dragging over the green grass as he heads towards the lake.

Fuck!

Oliver breaks out into a full on sprint as he chases after his dog, already trailing behind a good 200 feet by the time he gets moving.

“ARCUS!” he roars after him, quickly realizing that yelling and running do _not_ go well together.

He’s rounded half the lake when Arcus finally seems to slow down, and holy shit, that’s a good thing because Oliver is _seriously_ out of shape. His own pace drops down to a light jog, his burning muscles welcoming the reprieve and his lungs accepting the huge gulps of air he sucks in.

His dog comes to a stop in front of a blonde woman sitting on one of the benches overlooking the lake, greeting her enthusiastically. There’s only one person he knows that his dog would be this happy to see, his brain reminds him at the same time as the blonde tips her head back with a laugh when Arcus starts slobbering all over her bare knees.

Oliver trips over a rock, too distracted by putting two and two together and realizing that the blonde is none other than Felicity to look at where he’s going. He barely catches his step, somehow managing not to fall to the ground.

 _Well, that could’ve been embarrassing_ , he thinks, a mental image of him face planting right in front of her haunting his mind.

Relief floods through him when a quick glance at her tells him that she’s still completely focused on Arcus who’s happily accepting her petting, tail wagging excitedly and tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

He takes the few precious seconds that it takes him to close the distance to calm his rapid pulse, his legs starting to feel a little wobbly at the sudden loss of activity.

“Hey, Felicity,” he greets her once he’s close enough, his voice still coming out a little breathless. Damnit.

She looks up, bright blue eyes meeting his as she smirks up to him. “Hey, Stumbles,” she greets him with a playful grin, “how’re you doing?”

Ah, great, so she _did_ see his graceful display of athleticism. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He’s glad that he’s already flushed from his impromptu hardcore run, otherwise she’d probably be able to witness an impressive blush spread over his cheeks.

“Good, good. You?” Fuck, he’s still really out of breath, and it takes every shred of self-control not to double over or let himself drop down to the ground into a weeping puddle of weak-ass muscles.

“I was doing great until I rolled my ankle,” she replies with a sigh, lifting one hand off Arcus' head to motion down to her right foot.

His gaze drops down and he’s really trying not to linger on her bare legs, but they’re just… _there_ and they’re so fucking glorious, her creamy skin glistening in the warm rays of the morning sun.

 _Get a grip, Oliver,_ he chastises himself, quickly moving his focus down to her feet.

He sucks in a sympathizing breath when he sees the angry swelling around the top of her ankle, the rest of her foot hidden by her running shoe.

“Shit, what happened?”

“Ugh, it was stupid,” she groans. “I was trying to sidestep a puddle, but somehow miscalculated my movement and caught just the edge of a pothole with too much force and twisted my foot.”

“Ouch, can you walk?”

She glares up at him. “Would I be sitting here if I could?”

He arches up a surprised eyebrow at her snapping tone, opening his mouth to backtrack, but she quickly cuts him off, her eyes going wide.

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be snapped at when you’re just trying to be nice,” she apologizes with a rueful smile. “Yes, I can walk, but only a little bit before it hurts too much. I already made my way over here from two benches down, but at this pace, I’ll be happy to reach my apartment by nightfall. You wouldn’t happen to have a phone with you, would you?” she asks hopefully.

Now that surprises him. “You didn’t bring your phone?”

She shakes her head. “Why does that surprise you so much?”

He shrugs and purses his lips slightly. “I just figured someone as attached to tech as yourself wouldn’t go anywhere without it.” God, that sounded stupid and a little judgmental.

“Ah,” she breathes out and smiles indulgently, “I guess I see your point, but to be honest, as much as I love my tech and the connectivity that comes with it, I take great pleasure in ditching it for my morning run. And for one blissful hour a day I can escape all responsibilities and just unwind for a while without being interrupted by one of my employees or clients. But unfortunately that also means that I can’t call Dig to pick me up right now.”

He sits down next to her on the bench, his content dog separating them by sitting on the ground but having his head resting in Felicity’s lap. “That’s your driver, right?”

“Yeah, but never say that in front of him. He hates being called my driver and if we wanna be precise his job title is more along the lines of close personal protection agent.”

He draws up his eyebrows in confusion. “So, basically, he’s your bodyguard?” he asks and pauses for a second. ”You need a bodyguard?”

“I don’t _need_ one, I guess, but having Dig around makes me feel safer,” she offers, and then continues slowly when she sees his questioning gaze, “You of all people should know that you don’t get to a certain point of success without pissing people off and making enemies along the way. It’s the same in the tech world, probably because it’s so highly competitive and, of course, profit yielding. I get threats from time to time from ex-employees and competitors, and I just wanna make sure that nothing ever comes of that.”

His heart clenches painfully at the thought of something bad happening to the bubbly blonde in front of him, but before he can analyze where the hell that intense feeling came from, she continues her explanation.

“But you know Dig’s not just a bodyguard; he’s so much more than that. Like you’ve noticed, he’s my driver on most days, he accompanies me to public events, he’s my consultant for all things that relate to security around my offices and server locations, but more importantly, he’s my friend and confidante. There are not many people in this world that I trust as much as I trust him.”

He smiles at that, glad to hear that she has someone in her life to keep her safe and someone she can trust with her life. But at the same time there’s this lingering feeling in his chest of longing to be part of that exclusive circle of trust. He wants her to trust him. He wants her to have that same flash of adoration and appreciation in her eyes when she talks about him.

Not for the first time today he realizes just how much he’s drawn to her in a way he’s never experienced before in his life. Being back in her company after their two week hiatus forces him to admit how much he finds himself wanting to be near her, listen to her babble on about random things, hear her carefree laugh. Just be with her.

He’s so screwed.

He clears his throat to bring himself back to the present, knowing that it can’t end well if he keeps going down that line of thought. “He sounds like a good guy.”

She beams at him with a nearly blinding smile, obviously pleased that he came to that conclusion. “He’s the best.”

A comfortable silence settles between them, Felicity’s focus shifting back to Arcus, while Oliver settles on coming up with a game plan. Now that he’s admitted to himself that he’s interested in getting to know her, he needs to figure out how to go about it.

And he’s completely lost. Where does he even start?

He’s never done this before. ‘ _This_ ’ being actively pursuing a woman. To be honest, he’s never had to. Usually, it’s the other way around, with women pursuing him until he either gives in and sleeps with them or lets them down easy (or hard). Usually, he doesn’t have to lift so much as a finger. But, of course, there’s nothing usual about Felicity Smoak.

Something tells him that she probably wouldn’t take well to him just stating his intentions openly, not if her hesitant reaction to his compliment in the elevator or when he’d shifted the focus on her were anything to go by. She’s cautious around him, even if her bubbly personality conceals her behavior a little bit.

And he can’t really blame her. Even though she said that she didn’t put much stock into what the tabloids say, there’s bound to be a lingering doubt. The media has always had a penchant for making him out to be somewhat of a playboy, and while he’s definitely not lived as a monk in the last ten years, the tabloids’ depiction of his sex life is completely over the top and more speculation than hard fact.

He figures that, first, he needs to earn her trust, make her see that behind all the glitz and glamour he’s just a normal guy.

Step 1: being a good neighbor and a helpful human being.

“How about I help you get back to your apartment?” he offers a few minutes later, once he’s worked up the nerve. “I could give you a piggyback ride.”

Her head swivels around, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “A piggyback ride?” she asks incredulously. “You do realize I’m a grown woman, right?”

“So?” he shrugs, unwilling to back down on his weird offer.

She nibbles on her bottom lip, her forehead drawing together in contemplation. “So, that means that I’m not exactly as light as a feather. I don’t wanna be responsible for breaking Oliver Queen’s back.”

He snorts in response and makes a show of letting his eyes rake over her body appreciatively. “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he states simply and almost fist pumps when his compliment hits the target and she blushes profusely, shifting in her seat under his scrutiny.

“That… I… uhm…”

He grins widely at her when she tries and fails to deliver a comeback. “Tell you what,” he says and backtracks to give her an out, “if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I’ll just offer to be your human crutch. You can lean on me and we’ll slowly walk back. And if you don’t like that either, I’ll just run home and come back with my phone so you can call your friend. Dealer’s choice.”

She stares at him for five long seconds before a grateful smile lights up her beautiful face. “How about we start with trying to walk, if that doesn’t work you can carry me, and when you realize that I am in fact too heavy, you can get a phone?” she suggests with a smirk.

He gets up from the bench and holds out his hand for her to take. “I do believe your astute logical reasoning is why you make the big bucks, Ms. Smoak.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

When her pain from walking had gotten too much after only two dozen yards he’d ended up carrying her after all, much to Oliver’s glee. Arcus had been thoroughly confused by the humans’ new walking arrangement: Felicity with her legs and arms wrapped around Oliver while he’d held her up with his hands looped under her thighs.

Much to Oliver’s chagrin –and he’s pretty sure he actually felt his ego take a brutal hit- he had to stop and catch his breath about two thirds into their journey, his out of shape-ness shining through. He’d tried to blame it on Arcus who kept running around him and stepping right in front of him to stop him and get him to put Felicity back down, but the blonde just laughed off his excuse with a knowing smirk and a pat to his heaving chest.

When they’d finally made it up to her apartment he’d helped her get settled in on her couch, even wrapping the swollen ankle with an ace bandage and grabbing an ice pack from her freezer.

He’d only left when she’d assured him that she would call or text him if she needed anything.

But she hasn’t called or texted all day, he thinks with a little wave of sadness going through his body as he pushes into the downtown branch of Big Belly Burger that’s buzzing with the dinner crowd. After his crazy workout this morning he feels like he deserves a good old Belly Buster menu.

He goes through the motion of ordering and looks around for a booth to sit down and wait until his order is ready. His eyes skim over the occupied tables until they land on a shock of blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail that looks awfully familiar. Is that…?

He steps closer and plops down on the other bench in the booth when he realizes that it is in fact Felicity. “Looks like you’re violating three of the four RICE principles right now,” he quips, not quite able to keep a note of irritation from his voice. This is the exact reason why he offered his help, so she wouldn’t have to leave her apartment, and just keep resting her foot.

“Whu-?” she flinches, head snapping up from her tablet that she drops down on the table at the same time with a clatter. When she realizes it’s him, she brings up a hand to cover her chest and takes a few deep breaths. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she chastises, but there’s a chuckle bubbling from her throat, taking the edge off the statement.

“Don’t change the subject, Felicity,” he grumbles frustratedly. “Why aren’t you at home resting? I told you you could call me if you needed anything. That includes getting you something to eat.”

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she eyes him carefully. “I was getting a bit antsy,” she admits. “I’m not used to doing nothing all day long.”

“I’m sure you were doing something,” Oliver motions towards her tablet.

“True, but it’s not typical for me to sit around all day, unless I go on a coding binge, but that hasn’t happened in a while. During my work day I usually have to walk around the offices quite a bit, or at least get to stand up from time to time. Plus, due to my clumsiness, my run was cut short, which already left me with pent up energy. So all in all it was a pretty sucky day,” she surmises and shrugs helplessly.

“You know you could’ve called me down to your place to keep you company. It’s not like I’m busy at the moment and I’m sure Arcus would literally jump at the opportunity to spend time with you,” he chuckles.

Her eyes dart down and fixate on her tablet, hands clasping together on the table in… discomfort? That’s when a grueling thought hits him and his smile drops from his lips in an instant.

“Unless you don’t _want_ to spend time with me,” he concludes and lets out an acerbic huff. “Well, I guess it _was_ a little presumptuous of me to just assume that you’d want to in the first place. I’m sorry to have pushed myself on you. I thought maybe…” he cuts himself off before he makes an even bigger fool of himself. He shakes his head when he moves to stand up, his stomach tied up in knots.

Did he really read the situation all wrong?

“Hey,” her soft voice cuts through the fog of disappointment. “That’s not why I didn’t call,” she assures him, placing her right hand on his forearm, the sudden warmth sending chills through his body.

His eyes drop down to where she’s touching him and he watches absolutely mesmerized as her fingers trail down over his wrist until they find his fingers, quickly intertwining them and giving him a little tug. He lets her gentle pull guide him back to his seat, never breaking the delicious skin on skin contact.

“Look, I didn’t call because I didn’t want to bother you,” she admits, keeping her eyes locked on his.

“You wouldn’t have bothered me, Felicity. I offered, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’re… you,” she explains helplessly.

“Yes, I’m me.” He furrows his brows in confusion. “If I make you uncomfortable or you just don’t like me then just say the word and I’ll back off. I just… I kinda need to know your stance on all this, otherwise I can’t act accordingly.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” she says quickly. “I mean, I still don’t really know much about you, but you’re friendly enough for me not to run for the hills,” she quips with a little tilt to her head that makes her look impossibly cuter.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” Judging by her helpless and slightly pitiful glance at him, he surmises that he probably looks like a lost puppy.

Her voice drops to a whisper, “You’re Oliver Queen.”

“Uhh… yeah, I thought we already established that,” he whispers back, earning himself an eye roll.

“No, I mean you’re _Oliver Queen_ ,” she repeats quietly, head swiveling around to check that nobody heard her.

He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I… that… you lost me there.”

She sighs and takes a second to think about her next words that come out carefully, measured. “You’re a _legit_ international superstar. You have stuff named after you, right now there’s a gigantic billboard of you half naked just a few blocks from here,” she hisses. “I had a poster of you on my wall when I was 15. Meeting you in real life is so fucking surreal that I keep pinching myself whenever we talk just to make sure that I’m not in some weird life-like dream.”

“I honestly don’t know how to respond to that,” he sighs, barely keeping the proud grin off his face. “But none of those things sound particularly bad, even though I think you should really stop pinching yourself, that’s bound to leave bruises.”

She tugs on his fingers again, effectively shutting him up and reminding him of the little fact that she’s _still_ holding his hand.

“Don’t get cheeky, mister,” she admonishes playfully. “Okay, the point I’ve been trying to make is that this whole situation with meeting you and you being so nice and carrying me through the park and offering your help, basically you being such a normal guy, is completely overwhelming. I mean I’m still kinda trying to process the fact that I met you at all, and then looked after Arcus, and then had dinner with you in my apartment,” she babbles, her eyes getting wider with every second, like saying those things out loud somehow make them even more real.

“Is that why I’ve barely seen you in the last couple of weeks? Because you’ve been trying to get over the fact that I’m your neighbor?” he asks with a smile.

“Yes, and to understand you’re so _likable_ and so unlike everything I’ve ever read or heard about you.” She tilts her head a little. “Wait, no, not unlike everything. I’m pretty sure all the good things stick, but I don’t see the relentless womanizer or the slightly arrogant actor.”

He lifts an eyebrow at that. “Oh, come on,” she huffs out. “Have you ever sat down to listen to what other actors say about you, or even rewatched some of your own interviews? You just come off as this aloof and smug ass. And I’ve been trying to reconcile that with the man that’s sitting in front of me right now. It’s a bit of a mindfuck to see so completely different versions of one person,” she admits with a sigh. “And to be honest, it’s hard to let go of a certain perception I’ve had of you for the past ten or so years.”

He can’t help but scowl at her assessment. “I didn’t know that I came off like that,” he says thoughtfully, “but if you give me the chance I’d really like to show you that _this_ is the real me and everything else is just part of the crazy and unhealthy Hollywood lifestyle.”

She takes a few seconds to process his words and a happy smile spreads over her face. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that. To get to know the real you, I mean.”

It looks like step 2 of his plan is starting to take shape: become friends.

“How about we start tonight with enjoying our burgers together?” he suggests, holding his breath until he sees her enthusiastic nod.

“Takeout orders 107, 108 and 109 are ready!”

Felicity lets go of his fingers and claps her hands together happily as she moves to get up. “107 is mine.”

“I’ll get it,” he cuts in before she can take a step towards the counter. “Mine’s 109.”

He comes back with their order, juggling the two bags and the cup holder with their two milkshakes in one hand and offers her his free arm to help her walk.

She smiles up at him with a bright, grateful smile and loops her arm through his. Carefully, they make their way through the crowd that is waiting their turn to order or pick up food, and push out into the cool night air.

“Can I give you a ride or did you come here with your driver?” he asks quietly when they reach the curb where his car is parked.

“On your back or in the car?” she teases.

“How about both? First in the car and then I’ll carry you to your door,” he compromises.

“Oh, now you’re stepping up your game, huh?” She smirks playfully at him. “I’d definitely appreciate the car ride since I took an Uber here, and we’ll see about that piggyback ride when we’re home.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he says while he maneuvers his hand around her to open the passenger car door, feeling happier and more hopeful than he has in a long time.

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: we got some pretty strong language in the first half of this chap.

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

It's been a few weeks since they'd decided to get to know each other better and become friends.

She's _friends_ with Oliver Queen. Now _that's_ a realization that still catches her off-guard and messes with her head from time to time.

She smiles at the object of her current musings as he holds the door to his apartment open with his elbow, his arms loaded with their takeout bags, and motions for her to go in ahead of him.

"Still such a gentleman," she throws teasingly over her shoulder as she passes him.

"You sound surprised."

She shrugs lightly. "Well, in my experience, good manners tend to wear off after some time. At first, guys try really hard to make a good impression and after a while they get kinda lazy and sometimes just stop trying altogether."

He lets out a disgruntled hum. "Maybe I'm just better than all the guys you've met so far."

She wouldn't necessarily describe his tone as cocky, but there's definitely an air of self-confidence to it that makes her turn around to face him.

She's about to call him out on his comment when she locks eyes with him. There's _something_ there, in the way he looks at her with his big blue eyes, that makes her reconsider the snarky retort.

The corners of her lips turn up into a little smile. "Maybe you are," she concedes, almost laughing out loud when his jaw drops in response. He definitely didn't see that one coming.

And yeah, maybe he really is better than all the men she's ever met. So far, she has absolutely nothing to complain about. On the contrary, really. He's been an absolute gentleman from the very first day, always holding open doors, helping her into her coats, lending her his jacket when she'd forgotten hers the other day when they were walking in the park, always bringing her to her apartment after having dinner out or at his place. And all that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Felicity honestly can't recall any man who's ever been this attentive and polite without making a big deal of it or letting it seem forced. It's just who he is. And it's hard not to be attracted to that.

"Yo, Ollie, _finally_ you're home. Did you pick up some beer by any chance?" A deep voice hollers from somewhere inside the apartment.

Oliver's eyes slide shut and he lets out a groan. "I'm going to say this now before he says anything offensive. I'm sorry on his behalf. Even though there's really no excuse for him."

Uh, what? Who is he talking about?

"Alright, buddy," the voice continues, "listen up. The game plan for tonight is to go to the club, pick up some of those smoking hot models that are in town for fashion week and have a good time, because, dude, no offense, but you need to get laid. It's been way too long since you got some and I'm pretty sure it's not healthy to go this long without banging someone."

His jaw tightens and he takes a steadying breath. "Just ignore everything that comes out of his mouth," he advises her with a sigh. "He sounds like he's already had a few glasses and he tends to become even more inappropriate than usual when he starts drinking."

She nods slowly. "And who is _he_?"

"Tommy Merlyn. My best friend. Or… I don't know. We grew up together and he's always been there for me, but he also doesn't seem to have gotten the memo that I'm not interested in all the partying anymore," he explains while he starts walking towards the living room. "Let's just go eat before our dinner gets cold."

Huh. Well, this should be interesting.

For a fleeting second, Felicity thinks about leaving the two men to catch up, but something in Oliver's apprehensive posture and tone make her want to stay and face his old friend together. What can possibly go wrong, right?

So she follows her friend into the living room where a dark-haired man is sprawled over the couch. He looks to be about the same age as Oliver, clad in a too tight, expensive looking shirt, his hair styled carefully into disarray. One of his hands dangles off the couch, patting Arcus' black fur, who jumps up from his spot the second he sees his owner and her approach, scrambling for purchase on the sleek wooden floor in an attempt to reach her as quickly as possible.

When he finally makes it to her side, he sits down right in front of her and presses his wet nose into her skirt-covered thigh. "Hey, buddy, long time no see."

She looks back up just in time to see the cocky smirk fall from Tommy's lips as he takes in the scene in front of him with a deepening frown.

"Woah, man, who's the chick? I know you're far from Hollywood, but that doesn't mean you have to lower your standards quite this much. Surely, you can't be this desperate to get laid that you're considering to tap _that_ ," he says with a raised eyebrow, motioning one hand in her direction.

Woah, rude?! Okay, she knows that she's far from being a runway model. Her height and small boobs just being two of many other obstacles, but that doesn't mean she's some ugly duckling.

Feeling anger bubbling up in her chest she's about to say something in return when Oliver's large, warm hand settles on her lower back in what's probably an attempt to calm her down. It works, kind of, because feeling the warmth of his skin seep through the thin material of her blouse is really distracting and soothing at the same time.

"Just ignore him," he whispers with an apologetic smile and moves to greet his friend, taking away the comforting warmth.

She follows his lead, but he's definitely losing some of those gentleman points for not even trying to correct his asshole friend.

She watches the men exchange one of those handshake-man-hug-combinations while she sets down their food on the coffee table, not sure if their usual dinner routine of movie, food and wine on the couch is still happening tonight with the additional guest.

With an arched eyebrow she watches as Oliver holds his friend close for a second longer than necessary while his head dips down to whisper something into his friend's ear through clenched teeth.

Tommy glares at him and then at her as they pull apart.

"Felicity, this is Tommy. Tommy this is Felicity," Oliver introduces them, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Tommy doesn't say anything and doesn't even offer his hand, and instead just plops back down on the couch, eyes fixing on the TV.

Oh-kay. He obviously didn't only miss the gentleman lessons but also the part about being a decent human being.

He gives her and Arcus a hardcore side eye, while Oliver runs to the kitchen to get plates and glasses. It's only when he comes back that his best friend speaks up. "So, how come Arcus is all over her? Usually, he never leaves my side when I'm here, and now, he doesn't even look at me," he laments, sounding distinctly like a petulant five-year-old.

"It seems to me that his taste in humans is evolving," Oliver deadpans.

Tommy glares at him in response, but stays silent, leaning back into the couch cushions. Oliver just smiles at her, waggling his eyebrows playfully and continues to talk about his day like he didn't just kind of insult his best friend.

His tale of going to the dog park that morning and Arcus' presence by her side help to calm her nerves a little bit. She knows that she's less talkative tonight than usual, and the fact that Oliver takes it upon himself to fill the void tells her that he, too, feels a little on edge and that he understands that her taciturn behavior stems from an atypical feeling of discomfort. Usually, they have no problem of enjoying a quiet moment together when it's just the two of them, but tonight, she thinks that any sort of silence would be used by Tommy to make more snide comments.

She almost pumps a fist in the air in relief when her phone starts ringing and she swiftly uses the opportunity to excuse herself. It takes every ounce of self-control she has to not literally bolt from the couch but walk slowly and measuredly towards the foyer instead. When she reaches the dark hallway, she lets out the first easy breath since she first heard Tommy's voice. She smiles warmly when she realizes that Arcus has followed her diligently and sits down next to her feet, waiting for her to pet him.

There's something about Tommy that just sets her on edge. Sure, the comments he made earlier certainly didn't leave a good first impression, but she finds his silent and intense gaze on her much more intimidating and unnerving than any inappropriate comment.

She quickly wraps up the call with Curtis who just wanted to tell her about a new appointment in her calendar with a potential client next week. But instead of going back immediately, she takes another cleansing breath and leans against the cool wall of Oliver's foyer, steeling herself for the rest of the evening. Maybe she could just pretend like there's a work emergency and go home.

She sighs. No, that seems a little too drastic. She's dealt with arrogant assholes like Tommy Merlyn before. She can handle it. Especially with the silent support from Oliver and his dog.

Just when she feels like she's ready to go back inside, Tommy's voice travels over to her position. "Who the hell is that chick, Ollie? Flavor of the week? And you brought her back to your place? What the hell, man? What if she tips of the paps? And what if she's one of those gold-digging bitches?"

Has she mentioned that Tommy Merlyn's a presumptuous douchebag? No? Well, he is!

"She's really none of your business, Tommy," Oliver hisses. "I told you to stop talking shit about her. I wasn't kidding when I said I'd kick you out."

Is that what he'd whispered into his friend's ear when they'd greeted each other?

There's a short pause before Tommy continues, "So I gather from your reaction that despite her so-so looks she's good in the sack, huh? In that case, care to share? If she's really that good, I wouldn't mind hitting that. The longer I look at her, the more the librarian thing is starting to work for me."

"Will you stop talking about her like she's a piece of meat?" Oliver shoots back angrily, voice growing louder.

And woah, who knew he has such a sexy growly voice?

Tommy just scoffs in return, "Oh, come on, man. Don't tell me she's more than a quick fuck for you. And by the way, what's up with Arcus? Is she bribing him or something?"

Oliver ignores his first comment and latches onto the second, his voice smug. "Personally, I think his affection for her shows his impeccable taste."

Damn right.

"You wound me, Queen," Tommy retorts, not sounding all that hurt. "I'm your best friend."

She doesn't hear Oliver's response, but it certainly gets Tommy's attention who raises his voice a little. "What the fuck is happening to you, man? Don't let some floozy get into your head, no matter how good she is in bed."

Oliver matches his friend's raised voice, anger seeping through every word. "I swear, Tommy, one more word and I'll punch you in the face and kick you out of here."

Now seems like a good time to intervene before they actually end up punching each other. She strides back into the living room and immediately zeros in on the tension that's visibly rolling off Oliver's body in waves. His hands are balled into fists, his jaw set. He looks really pissed, fixing his best friend with an icy glare.

She settles down in her previous spot next to Oliver, once again bracketed between his warm body on one side and his loyal dog on the other.

Pretending like she didn't just overhear their conversation, she turns towards Tommy with a fake interested smile. "So, Tommy, what do you do? Is it okay if I call you Tommy or should I call you Dick?"

Two confused pairs of eyes turn towards her. "Dick is short for Richard, not Thomas," the man in question points out, voice irritated.

She purses her lips in mock contemplation and shrugs carelessly. "True. But it also seems to be a very apt description of your personality."

He splutters angrily, while Oliver huffs out an amused laugh.

Tommy turns an angry glare on his friend. "You let that whore talk to your best friend like that?"

Uh oh. Wrong thing to say.

Oliver bolts out of his seat suddenly, leaning over to grab Tommy's shirt, wrapping the fabric around his fist as he pulls him off the couch. "That's enough! Get the hell out of here, man, before I do something I probably won't regret."

He pushes him away from the couch and into the hallway, never loosening his tight grip on the shirt.

Tommy takes the whole situation in stride, merely scoffing at his friend's behavior. "You know what, Ollie? Have fun with her tonight, get it all out of your system and then you can call me tomorrow to apologize when you find out that I was right about her and this place is swarming with paps or you're missing something valuable."

"The only one who should be apologizing is you," Oliver growls. "You've done nothing but disrespect her all night without even taking a second to get to know her and see how amazing she is."

"News flash, Ollie," the dark-haired man sneers. "That's what we do. We're assholes and the ladies still love us, falling over backwards to spend the night with us. It's always been like that. Don't pretend like you're any better than me. This whole protective gentleman act is clearly working on her, so just bang her tonight and then once your brain isn't clogged up by your dry spell anymore, you'll remember who you really are. Who you've always been and always will be." With that he bats his friend's hands away, straightens his shirt and slams the door shut behind him as he leaves.

Felicity counts to thirty in her head, silently watching Oliver's frozen figure, before she quietly gets up and pads over to him. She rounds him, stopping directly in front of him, but he doesn't even seem to realize that she's there. His eyes are still glued to the closed door, a thousand emotions flickering through his blue orbs. The most dominant ones shock, bitterness and guilt.

Without thinking about her actions, she closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around his back, pressing her body against the hard planes of his, her cheek nestled right against the middle of his chest. His entire body stiffens beneath her fingers and yet it never crosses her mind that hugging him was a mistake. Right now, he needs someone to reassure him that, even if he used to be the person Tommy described, now he's different. He's better than that.

It takes him three full seconds and a shuddering intake of breath before his body relaxes and his arms start moving and wrap around her small frame, holding onto her like he's drowning and she's his life raft.

They stand there, wrapped around each other, for what feels like an eternity and yet it's not nearly long enough. Through the thin fabric of his henley, she can hear every beat of his heart, feel every breath he takes. After a while it feels like they've become one, inhaling and exhaling at the same time, steady heartbeats in perfect synchronicity.

It's beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.

Something shifts between them in that moment. She can feel it deep down in her bones, a new feeling of trust and certainty manifests itself somewhere deep in her heart.

"Do you want to be alone?" she asks softly, her thumb stroking over his spine in a soothing motion.

"No," he whispers back close to the shell of her ear, voice laced with barely held back emotions.

"Okay." She tightens her hold and he leans on her a little more, accepting her offer of quiet solace.

Her mind wanders back to Tommy while her arms are holding together the pieces of his best friend that his cruel parting words left behind. Just a few weeks ago they would've sent her into a spiral of doubt. Doubting herself and Oliver's intentions. But today, after having spent almost every night with Oliver for the past two weeks talking and getting to know him, she feels nothing but determination. Determination to prove that sucker wrong and to make sure Oliver knows that he's nothing like his past self anymore.

She pulls away from Oliver then, and she could swear that she hears him whimper a little at the loss of contact, grabbing his hand and pulling him to sit down on the couch, fingers still interlocked and resting in his lap.

Sitting there, the sudden distance between them seems foreign and almost wrong. Her body is screaming at her to scoot closer, to find his comforting warmth again. It's addictive.

"I was that guy," he abruptly breaks the silence, voice hoarse with emotions. "Just like Tommy said."

She tugs at his fingers insistently, silently begging him to look her in the eye. "But you're not anymore! The man I see in front of me is nothing like the man Tommy described."

His eyes dart down to his lap, his head shaking in protest. "Oliver, look at me. Try as I might I can't argue with the fact that you probably  _were_ that guy in the past. I didn't know you back then, so I don't know who you really were and how many of the stories are true. But the important thing is that at some point you made a choice and changed to become the incredible man you are today."

He swallows hard, eyes still on her, but filled with so much sadness and disbelief. It all but breaks her heart.

"Something happened. Something bad. It…" his voice breaks off and he drops his head.

He's not ready to talk about it. That much is clear. So she brings up her free hand and cups his stubbly cheek, ignoring the delicious, scratchy feeling against her skin, forcing him to look up.

"I know we haven't known each other for a long time, but I want you to know that I'm here whenever you want to talk about something. Okay?"

He only nods in response, his eyes never leaving hers. There's that look of disbelief again. But this time it doesn't come from his doubts but from unfiltered wonder.

A beat of silence passes in which he finds his voice again. "You know," he muses and almost sounds like his usual self, "I'm really glad we got stuck in that elevator together."

She smiles back at him softly. "Me, too."

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW** **⁂** **⁂**  ⁂

 

He's just turning off the oven, the unmistakable scent of his signature lasagna wafting through his kitchen, when an idea pops into his head. Before he can talk himself out of it, he grabs his phone and sends a quick text to Felicity.

**Any plans for tonight? I just made lasagna and I got that red wine you like. Wanna come up?**

He doesn't sound too eager, does he? Maybe he should've started with 'how are you?', but then again he'd seen her just that morning when they'd gone for a run together with Arcus.

A minute passes and then another. Maybe he should've just called her. He's about to do just that when his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

**Sounds amazing, but why don't you and A-dog come down, pretty boy?**

He chuckles at the last part. She's not generally so open with her flirtatious remarks, they usually just slip out during one of her rambles, but he'll take whatever he can get from her.

Ever since their unpleasant encounter with Tommy last week, their friendship had changed. In just one night they'd created a deeper connection than any friendship he's shared before her. He's really not sure if he's ever been this honest and open with anyone else in his life. There are still stories they haven't shared with each other, some things in their pasts that they haven't discussed yet. But the important thing is that he feels like he _could_ share them with her. He trusts her implicitly and values her opinion on any given matter. One day, when the time is right, he'll tell her what happened that made him change his life.

Ten minutes later, he knocks on her door, the lasagna, some French bread and her favorite red wine stowed safely in a basket that Thea had once given him for Christmas, and, of course, with Arcus sitting happily by his side.

The door whips open and he's faced with a surprised Felicity, dressed in an old MIT hoodie and sweatpants that he knows spell 'juicy' right across her ass. How does he know that? Uh, well, because Felicity has a magnificent ass that he can't seem to not look at whenever given the opportunity.

Her surprise morphs into a happy smile. "You're not the pizza guy."

"Nope, but I do bring food." He frowns when he repeats her words in his head. "Wait, why would you order pizza when you know I'm bringing lasagna?"

Her mouth drops open in delight. "You brought lasagna? I love your lasagna!"

"I know," he says smugly, "that's why I'm wondering why you ordered pizza."

"Well, I didn't know you'd be stopping by," she defends herself, scratching lightly through Arcus' fur.

"I texted you," Oliver points out, confusion growing, "and you replied. That was only, like, 15 minutes ago."

"What? No, I didn't get a text from yo- Oh my God, you have to leave right now," she exclaims, eyes growing wide in horror.

"What? But you-"

"No! Leave! _Right now_ ," she orders him and pushes against his chest lightly to make him move. "I'm doing this for your own good."

"Felicity, what's going on?" Why is she acting so weird?

"Hey, Felicity, is that our food? We're starving," a female voice sing-songs from inside the apartment, drawing closer to their position.

And then it clicks and Felicity's frenzied pushes against his chest and her horrified look start to make sense. "You didn't send me that text," he points out unnecessarily.

She shakes her head frantically. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I left my phone on the coffee table when I went to change and they must've hijacked it."

"Well, hello there," the same voice as before pipes up right behind Felicity. "You're definitely not the pizza guy. Come on in and join us for our girls' night," the dark-haired woman says sweetly and grabs his arm to drag him inside, completely ignoring Felicity's protests.

And yeah, so this woman is probably the same build and height as Felicity, so he knows that he could've stopped her from dragging him along without even using a fraction of his strength. But the thing is that he doesn't _want_ to stop her. He wants to know as much as possible about Felicity and spending an evening with some of her friends seems like too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Grinning teasingly over his shoulder at Felicity who's quickly rushing after them after closing the door, he enters her living room, still anchored firmly in place by the other woman's hand.

"Iris, I swear if you don't let go of him, I'll kick you out right this second," Felicity threatens her friend desperately, a distinct rosiness creeping up her cheeks.

"Oh, please, I bet he likes it," she jokes, but still lets go of his hand, pointing towards the couch that is occupied by a sheepishly smiling brunette. "That's Caitlin, Felicity's other best friend."

"Hey," huffs out with a laugh. "I'm Oliver."

"Oh, believe me, I know," Caitlin wheezes out with an impressive blush, clearly a little more star-struck than her friend.

Felicity groans behind him and grabs his arm, dragging him towards her kitchen. What is it with women dragging him around tonight? Not that he's complaining...

"Come on, we'll dish up some food and give Cait some time to remember how to breathe," she insists, her hand skirting down his arm until her fingers can intertwine with his.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Lis," Iris calls after them. "And by that I mean lick whipped cream off that _gorgeous_ body of his."

"Oh my God," Felicity exclaims and throws her free hand in front of her face. "Oliver, I'm sorry. You know you can just leave, right? You don't have to stay just because they want you to."

"Do _you_ want me to stay?" he questions, holding his breath while waiting for her answer.

She sighs and takes a step towards him. "You know I love spending time with you… and Arcus," she starts and motions to his dog who's looking at them with a slightly tilted head. "But I don't want you to feel obligated to stay or like you don't have another choice."

"They're part of your life, Felicity, I'd like to get to know them and see a different side of you. But you still haven't said if you want me to stay."

"We… _they_ were planning on watching one of your movies tonight and I don't think they'll consider watching anything else. That could be awkward for you. And they'll definitely bombard you with a million questions, most of them probably inappropriate."

"Felicity…"

"And they'll go into full on fangirl mode, okay? They'll ask for photos and autographs and Iris will probably suggest that you take your clothes off at some point. That will probably make you feel super uncomfortable," she babbles on.

He sighs and gently pulls his hand out of hers, cupping her face on both sides to get her attention. She clamps her mouth shut in shock and stares up at him with wide eyes.

"Do _you_ want me to stay, Felicity?" he asks, voice dropping to a barely there whisper.

"Yes."

"Then I'll stay." She opens her mouth in what is most likely another attempt to protest, but he cuts her off, "Yes, I heard every single word you said and I _still_ want to spend the evening with you… and your friends. Don't worry about me, I'm a big boy and can handle three girls fawning over me."

She narrows her eyes at him, but to his absolute joy, doesn't correct him on the number of girls fawning over him. He beams down at her and lifts one hand off her cheek, leaving it exposed and before he can talk himself out of it he leans down and presses a lingering kiss against her impossibly soft skin. He can practically feel the heat of her blush tingling against his lips, and savors the moment until loud giggling from the other room breaks the spell.

"To be fair, they can't be worse than _my_ best friend," he quips lightly into her ear before he pulls away.

"To be fair," she murmurs, her voice low and a little breathless as she turns his words on him, "that doesn't say very much. Tommy set the bar incredibly low."

"That he did," he concedes and smiles at her warmly. "Shall we?"

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

"You're on my Three-List, you know?" Iris blurts out, once their plates are empty and they're well into the second bottle of wine.

Oliver lifts his eyes from the screen and looks questioningly at Felicity who just shakes her head. "I don't know what a Three-List is," he says with a questioning lift of his eyebrow.

"A list of three individuals, usually unattainable celebrities, that you're allowed to sleep with while you're in a committed relationship, without there being any repercussions," Caitlin explains, the red wine clearly having done a marvelous job at loosening her tongue a little.

"Oh-kay," he coughs, trying to hide a laugh. "That's flattering?"

"So technically, I could sleep with you and not get into trouble with Eddie and…"

Her words are drowned out when he feels Felicity's hot breath ghosting over his neck as she leans into him. "You really need to learn when you shouldn't ask for more details."

He presses his lips together, trying to get his body's need to shiver at her close proximity under control. "Mh-huh."

Caitlin claps her hands together excitedly and shushes everybody. "Shut up, Iris, eyes on the screen for the good stuff."

With a furrowed brow he turns his own focus back to what's happening on Felicity's big plasma TV.

Oh.

Crap.

He'd conveniently blocked out the fact that there's a sex scene in this movie. One that involves him showing quite a bit of skin.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he watches himself flip over his equally naked co-star, baring his ass to the camera.

Suddenly the image on the screen freezes, stopping right in the middle of him thrusting downwards, in impeccable HD. What colossal asshole invented HD?

"Phew," Iris breathes out and fans herself with the remote. "So, I have a very important question for you, my darling: is that your delicious booty or did you use a butt-double?"

He barks out an incredulous laugh, but stills when he feels Felicity's slender hand slip into his. "You do not have to answer that," she tells him and glares at her friend who just shrugs carelessly.

"What? I always wanted to know," Iris mumbles defensively.

He clears his throat and motions towards the screen. "How about you press play so we can all stop staring at my ass?"

Next to him, Felicity snickers into his shoulder and he could swear that he heard her mumble, "at least it's a good one". But that doesn't matter, because for the rest of the movie their shoulders are pressed snugly together and her fingers are wrapped around his own.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

He wakes up in complete darkness, lying on his back on soft cushions that he immediately recognizes as Felicity's couch, a warm body on top of him. It takes him a few seconds to remember where he is: Felicity's place after he inadvertently crashed her girls' night because her friends lured him down. The wine had flowed freely, which is probably why he'd fallen asleep.

He smiles into the long locks of hair that are covering half of his face, knowing without a shred of doubt that it's Felicity's. He'd recognize her shampoo anywhere after the incredibly long hug they'd shared the other week.

She's sprawled out on top of him and with anyone else it would probably be uncomfortable for him, but with her it's not. It's perfect and he wants to stay like this forever, with her in his arms, body pressed tightly against his.

Thanks to their intimate position he can feel her breathing change against his chest when she wakes up. "Hey, Sleepy," he mumbles, making her flinch in surprise.

She takes a deep breath and pinches his waist. "Don't startle me like that," she grumbles and burrows her nose deeper into his chest.

"Sorry," he whispers back, making absolutely no move to change their position.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. I just woke up," he answers but stretches one hand out into the darkness where her coffee table should be. After a few failed attempts his fingers hit a phone and he carefully lifts it up, blinking against the offending bright light. "4.17am. Wow, did we really sleep for that long?" he questions and yawns. "Oh, this is your phone and you have a text from Iris."

"What does it say?"

He smiles into the darkness. "Am I your servant now, Ms. Smoak?" he asks teasingly.

She hums against him. "Mhhh, I wouldn't mind that. You can cook, you have good manners, and you look _really_ good. We'd just need to talk about the dress code."

"And what would that look like?"

"Bow tie."

"And?" he prompts.

"Maybe a pair of those black Calvin Klein boxer briefs you rocked during their ad campaign."

"I rocked them, huh?" he throws back teasingly, instantly loving this sleepy, unfiltered side of Felicity.

"Hell, yeah. I wouldn't mind licking whipped cream off of those _abs_ ," she mumbles.

"So you're saying you want to lick whipped cream off my body?"

"You're asking too many questions. Just read the text, man servant."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles and opens the text, reading it out loud, "We took A-dog for a midnight walk, so you don't have to worry 'bout getting up during the middle of the night. Also took some photos of you and McSexy. You're welcome."

"Mhh, that's good. Wouldn't want Arcus to have to suffer because of us." Her voice is getting heavier, tiredness winning over her body. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

He deposits the phone back on the table and pulls a blanket from the back of the couch over both of them. "Yeah, let's go back to sleep."

She snuggles into him, her cheek rubbing against his chest and her hands sneaking under his shirt on either side of his body.

"Hey, Felicity?" he whispers before sleep can fully claim her.

"Hmm?"

"How often do you dream about licking whipped cream off my body?"

"Mhhh.... Every night."

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	5. Chapter 5

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When he wakes a few hours later, he feels something that he hasn't felt in a very long time: content.

Lying there with Felicity's warm body gently pressing into his feels like pure bliss. Feeling her soft puffs of air hit his throat, her chest rising and falling in a slow and steady pattern against his. Yeah, he's completely and utterly content.

This is how he wants to wake up every morning for the rest of his life. Or, ya know, maybe in either of their beds instead of on the couch. Then again, as long as she's by his side they could wake up on his hardwood floor for all he cares. But the bed would definitely be the preferred option.

His mind immediately takes an involuntary detour to all the possibilities of how he could wake her if they were more than neighbors slash friends. Okay, so they're more than just neighbors slash friends, but they're definitely not at a level where he could kiss her awake or press his... Oh! Crap.

He shifts uncomfortably when he _finally_ realizes that his morning wood has been pressing against Felicity's stomach this entire time. Awkward!

Inch by inch, he slowly scoots away from her, careful not to wake her during his retreat. Blindly lowering his leg off the couch, his feet touch the floor and before he knows it he's free and clear and on his way to the bathroom for a... private moment.

When he emerges a few minutes later, Felicity greets him in the kitchen with a sunny smile that almost throws his barely composed control off kilter again. She's just finished brewing a cup of coffee in her fancy coffee machine, holding it out to him invitingly, but he shakes his head.

"Morning, sunshine," she throws playfully his way while he pads closer. "You look a little rumpled."

His head drops down to take in his appearance. And yeah, she's right. His formerly primly pressed button down is littered with creases, a few too many buttons undone. Huh, when did that happen and who did the unbuttoning?

He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Did you sleep well?"

She takes a sip from her cup, closing her eyes and leaning back against the counter while she savors the taste of the dark liquid that she's called 'life juice' more than once in his company.

"I did actually," she muses, cradling the cup in both hands in front of her face.

He tilts his head to the side. "You sound surprised."

"Yeah, I mean I like my couch, but I usually get a kink in my neck whenever I spend a night on it," she shrugs lightly.

He grins smugly at her. "Maybe you're usually lacking a good pillow." He knows he's pushing his luck with being so forward, but her words from earlier that morning are branded into his brain and he'd love to bring her flirty side out of its shell during the light of day.

She licks her lips in contemplation, narrowed eyes watching him closely, before, to his complete surprise, a smirk breaks out on her lips.

"Not gonna argue with that logic," she concedes, before continuing after a beat, "You know, if you ever decide to give up acting, you should consider becoming a professional cuddler. Women would probably pay a lot of money for your superior skills."

Superior skills? Hell yes!

Encouraged by the semi playful, semi flirty tilt to her voice he steps closer until his toes touch hers. "No can do," he says with a shake of his head, leaning in until his breath ghosts over her cheek. "I'm a one woman cuddler only."

He takes way too much delight in the way her telltale blush creeps up her cheeks and her eyes grow wide as she sucks in an unsteady breath. He leans in a little bit closer so that the short hairs of his beard brush against her cheek in a barely there touch. She shivers and her hand shoots up to rest against his chest when light chatter drifts over from the living room, interrupting their moment.

With a resigned sigh he drops a quick kiss to her cheek, catching her (and himself) off guard once again, judging by the little 'eep' that escapes her lips. He reaches past her and presses a button on the coffee machine behind her, before grinning smugly at her while he retreats to a perfectly respectable distance.

"Well, good morning, you two," Iris' chipper voice sounds from a few feet away. "Are we interrupting anything?"

He just grins at her and shrugs. "Just making coffee."

"Is that what the kids call it these days?" she retorts without missing a beat.

Instead of answering, he just winks at her and takes a sip of his freshly brewed coffee. And yeah, there's totally a hitch in her breathing and her sassy demeanor cracks for a split second. Not so tough now, huh, West?

Next to him, Felicity is shooting daggers into the direction of her friends, silently urging them to just shut up. Oh, this is already one of the best mornings he's had in a long time.

While Felicity offers her friends some coffee, he lets his mind drift again. He barely resists the temptation to pinch himself just to make sure that this moment isn't just a figment of his vivid imagination. Because, boy, his imagination tends to be very vivid whenever he thinks of Felicity. He's had countless dreams of what a morning with her would look like. Spending lazy hours in bed, watching her creamy skin illuminated by warm rays of the morning sun. Showering together. Cooking breakfast for her while she has her arms wrapped around him from behind.

He's pretty sure he's never wanted something more badly than this. Than _her_.

He loves that they've become friends. That they share this incredible, trusting friendship. It hasn't even been two months since they stumbled into each other's lives and yet there's no version of his future that he can or wants to imagine without her in it. But, good god, he still wants more. He wants all of her.

"Earth to Oliver," Caitlin's amused voice cuts through that potentially dangerous train of thought.

"Huh? What?"

Iris and Caitlin chuckle at him indulgently, but there's a little worried crease forming on Felicity's forehead, silently asking him if he's okay.

"I asked you if you can stay for breakfast or if you have to take your furry little pony for a walk," Iris asks him.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I must've spaced out for second there," he says apologetically and lets his eyes drift to his dog who's been patiently sitting in one of the corners of the kitchen, watching their interaction with a disinterested look in his eyes. "I guess he'll be fine for another half hour," he says before a thought occurs to him, "Hey, by the way, how did you get him to go for a walk with you last night?"

"While you were snuggling it up with my best friend, you mean?" Iris throws back with a playful lift of her eyebrow, but doesn't let him reply before she continues, "Lots and lots of treats. He's one stubborn piece of work, I'll tell you that. But between multiple back rubs from both, Cait and me, the treats and a crap load of coaxing finally did the trick, even though we only made it to the very closest tree and he ran back inside, ripping the leash straight out of my hand. He was waiting for us in front of the elevator and I was actually surprised that he hadn't pressed the button yet."

Yup, that sounds like Arcus.

Felicity seems to have the same thought, chuckling loudly and padding over to where his dog is sitting, giving him a thorough scratch behind the ears until her phone starts ringing in her pocket. She takes it out and gives them an apologetic smile when she sees who's calling. "Sorry, guys, it's Curtis. Gotta take this one."

"Morning, Curtis," Felicity greets her employee and friend with a smile that immediately falls and turns into a frown as she listens to the man on the other end. "Woah, slow down, take a deep breath and give me a one sentence summary of what's happening."

Oliver watches carefully as her whole body tenses up, her frown deepening. "Okay, so we're being hacked. That shouldn't be a problem. Just let my programs take care of it." A beat passes and her face turns ashen. "What do you mean, my programs aren't working? My babies have never failed me!"

She listens for a few more seconds and then nods her head. "Yes, please call me a cab and just hang tight until I get there. In the meantime, initiate lockdown protocol and run a system check. This kind of an attack can only come from the inside."

She hangs up and slams her phone down on the counter with more force than necessary, taking a deep breath as if to center herself. "I gotta go, emergency at the office." With no further explanation, she storms out of the kitchen and probably towards her bed room to go change.

Her three friends are left to stare at each other in confusion. "So, what just happened?" Oliver asks into the void.

Cait sighs in frustration, "It sounds like SmoakSolutions is under attack." When she sees Oliver's who looks at her alarmed, she quickly continues, "Not like an actual physical attack, but a hacker attack. It happens quite often, but as you heard, usually her programs just squash any attempt before it can get too serious. This time she looked really worried, though. I hope she doesn't go on one of her coding binges."

"Coding binge?" That doesn't sound good and yet vaguely familiar. Had she mentioned it before?

"Yeah," Iris jumps in to explain, "she used to do this quite often when we were in college. For hours, most often, even days she sits in front of her computer and writes programs and codes and other things I don't know anything about. If we hadn't been around to supply her with food and drinks other than coffee every few hours, she would've probably let herself starve to death. She was just completely focused on whatever problem she was tackling without any regard for her own well-being."

"It was bad," Cait agrees. "She worked herself into complete exhaustion, her body barely functioning on the overdose of caffeine. But there was never anything we could do about it. Iris once pulled the plug on her computer and Felicity didn't speak to her for a solid month because she was so pissed and this was all after-"

A sharp cough from Iris cuts her off, but Oliver doesn't pay too much attention to the two women at that point, his mind reeling.

Wow, okay.

Somehow, he has a hard time imagining that Felicity would act like that, in total disregard for her health and the relationships around her. That's not a side of her he would've ever believed to exist and yet, the serious and worried, almost scared, demeanor of her two closest friends tells him otherwise. There's definitely more to this than either is telling him right now.

The blonde whirlwind in question storms back into the kitchen, shoving her tablet and some other tech devices into a messenger bag. She grabs her coffee cup and downs its content in a few big gulps. "I gotta run, guys. Just take your time and let yourselves out whenever you're ready. Sorry for the abrupt end, but I did have a really good time last night."

Without so much as another glance at anybody she runs out of the kitchen, no indication that she even registers the loud "Felicity, wait!" that he yells after her.

And there goes their great morning together, destroyed by some asshole hacker who dared to harm her beloved tech.

 

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Two days.

Forty-eight hours of zero contact with Felicity.

She's not replying to his texts. She's not picking up her cell or her office phone. He's even considered sending her an email, but he's sure she'd ignore that, too.

Two days of no communication with Felicity and he's a complete mess. How had he not realized how big of a part of his life she'd become? Yes, he knows that he thoroughly enjoys spending time with her, talking to her, and shooting text messages back and forth during all hours of the day. But it takes not having any of that in his life for 48 hours to really realize how much of a constant she'd become in his life.

He misses her. It's that simple.

Well, it sounds simple at least. But in reality it's a little more complicated because he doesn't quite know what to do about it.

Iris and Cait had told him about her behavior in a stressful situation like this, and with the explanation had also come an underlying warning of sorts. They had sounded worried and seeing their wariness had certainly put him on edge, too, but it took almost a day before he began to finally understand just how true the tales of her best friends started to become.

He hates the sheer thought of her not taking care of herself, her body running on too much caffeine and too little sleep. It's that chilling thought that makes him spring into action.

Two hours later he steps into the converted warehouse that is the headquarter of SmoakSolutions in Starling. Freshly showered after a quick run with Arcus, and armed with two Belly Buster Deluxe Menus including an extra-large mint chocolate chip milkshake for Felicity, he makes a bee line for the little front desk slash security check.

He's only been here once before to pick Felicity up for one of their lunch outings, but once again he's left to marvel at the easy balance she found between making this a functional workspace while maintaining a comfortable and homey atmosphere.

But what's significantly different today is that instead of the light chatter that had drifted over from the rows of computers the last time he was here, there's a nervous and uneasy energy looming over the entire place. The only thing that can be heard is the quick, arhythmical hitting of keyboards and hushed voices arguing over something.

So apparently the attack that happened two days ago is still not completely resolved. His hope of getting Felicity to take a break is dwindling. If her employees look this on edge, she must be a complete wreck, especially if she hasn't left the office since the attack started.

He clears his throat when he reaches the front desk, smiling easily at the brunette receptionist. "Hi, I'm here to see Ms. Smoak."

The receptionist's eyes grow wide in shock when she looks up and recognizes him. Chloe, as her name tag says, barely manages to squeak out a few words, "Oh my god, you're… you're Oliver Queen."

"That's correct," he throws back with a wink, deciding to butter her up a little bit to increase his chances of seeing Felicity. "It's nice to meet you, Chloe. I can't help but notice how beautiful you look."

She blushes profusely at his compliment, but two steadying breaths later she seems to have gotten herself under control and she straightens up. "It's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Queen."

"Call me Oliver," he interjects quickly.

"Oliver," she corrects herself, but her smile turns tightlipped, "unfortunately I can't send you up to see Ms. Smoak at this moment. You're welcome to leave a message with me that I'll make sure reaches her as soon as possible."

Damn it.

He tries for a charming smile again. "Oh come on, Chloe. Seeing as my message is her rapidly cooling lunch, I don't think that will work for me right now. Just call up and tell her that I got her favorite food and I'm sure she'll have no problem with you letting me through."

"That won't be possible, Mr. Queen. She asked not to be disturbed by anyone."

"Just call her. She'll make an exception for me."

"I'm sorry," she repeats with growing certainty in her voice. "Like I said, she doesn't want to be disturbed by anyone. Not even you."

He grinds his teeth together, scrambling for an idea of how to get through when a familiar voice comes from behind him. "Is there a problem, Chloe?" John Diggle asks.

"No, Dig, Mr. Queen was just leaving."

He turns around to face the older man, lips pressing together in frustration. "Mr. Diggle, nice to see you again."

The other man just hums in acknowledgment and watches him through narrowed eyes. "This doesn't look like you're leaving."

Oliver takes a deep breath. "That's because I wasn't planning on leaving. I'm here to see Felicity."

"She doesn't want to be disturbed by anyone," Diggle parrots Chloe's words.

"Yes, so I've heard three times now, but that doesn't change the fact that I'd like to go up to her office and have lunch with her. Preferably before our food gets cold," Oliver bites back.

Diggle observes him for a few seconds before turning towards the receptionist. "Why don't you take a five minute coffee break while I deal with Mr. Queen?"

He waits until she nods and leaves her post before he turns back to Oliver once again. "We haven't really had a chance to talk so far, Mr. Queen. Why don't we play catch up now?" he asks and motions over to the little waiting area.

"Can we make this quick? Cold burgers and warm milkshakes don't hold quite the appeal of their original counterparts," Oliver shoots back. Maybe he should dial back on the hostility, but he just wants to see Felicity and it's really starting to piss him off that he's being stalled.

"You may be used to getting everything you want by snapping your fingers, but that same concept doesn't apply to dealing with me. You'd do well to remember that," Diggle warns him.

"Fine," Oliver concedes, choosing to just get this over with. "What would you like to talk about?"

"You, Mr. Queen. And your behavior," the older man starts slowly. "You see, Felicity may be my employer, but she's also family. So you can imagine that I always have her best interest in mind, not just professionally, but also in her private life."

"Your point being?"

"I looked into you when you started seeing each other."

Oliver huffs out a shaky breath. "I think you may have misinterpreted the situation, Mr. Diggle. We're not _dating_." Even though he'd really like that.

Diggle snorts and lifts an eyebrow in a clear 'are you for real' motion, but continues in an even voice, "Labels aside, you've become an important part of her life in a very short amount of time, and as her security advisor and friend I find that troubling. Especially, given your less than exemplary past and the potential security risks that come with being associated with a high-profile celebrity like yourself."

"Everybody knows my past," replies defensively. "One of the _perks_ of being a high-profile celebrity like myself," he adds with a healthy portion of sarcasm.

"Ah, yes, that's true," Diggle indulges him, not commenting on having his own words thrown back in his face. "Does the name Detective Lawton ring a bell?"

Oliver stiffens immediately, head whipping up to meet the other man's probing gaze. Fuck. That's the name of one of the cops that investigated the case of-

"You see," Diggle continues without waiting for a verbal answer from him, "Lawton and I served together in the Army. After three tours together I went into personal security and he became a cop in L.A., so naturally, when I was looking into you, I called him up. Why not go straight to the source, right?"

Dread starts settling into the pit of his stomach.

Diggle knows.

"As luck, or in your case, _bad_ luck would have it, he was one of only three cops that investigated the untimely death of a young woman in a Hollywood mansion. I'm sure I don't need to recollect the details, seeing as you were _there_ when it happened. And yet, your name miraculously never made it into any official report or the news for that matter. But you see, Lawton has a very good memory and that was the first thing he remembered when I mentioned your name."

Oliver brings up a shaky hand to cover his mouth, barely able to contain the onslaught of emotions threatening to overtake him. Once again his past has come back to haunt him.

"I'm not that man anymore," he whispers.

"How much can a man change in a little over a year?"

"A lot," Oliver insists, meeting Diggle's gaze. "That night was my wake up call."

"That was too little too late for the young woman."

Oliver shakes his head slowly, the familiar feeling of guilt seeping back into his body. "I wish I had acted differently. I wish I could've prevented what happened to her. God, I wish I'd never even gone to that party." He huffs out a humorless laugh. "But not matter how much I wish that things had been different, it doesn't change anything. I can't change the past."

"How many hours with a shrink did it take you to accept that?" Diggle asks, his voice dropping the previous apprehension and taking on an almost understanding note.

"Too many," Oliver admits. "I still have sessions every other week."

Diggle nods slowly, his eyes taking on a faraway look. "You'd think that as a soldier and bodyguard I'd be used to being responsible for bad things happening on my watch, but some memories still give me nightmares and make me question what could've been if I'd acted differently. If I'd taken just one more step, or if I'd been just one second faster. If you're not careful, the guilt and doubts have a way to eat away at your soul."

"That they do," Oliver agrees, thinking back to all the times he's beaten himself up over the last year. All the times he'd had nightmares of that night, and others when he'd dreamed of saving her life.

"Have you told Felicity?" The older man asks him, no accusation or judgment in his voice.

"She knows that something bad happened that made me change my life. She said that I should take my time and confide in her when I'm ready," he says, remembering the night when Tommy had crashed their dinner. "It's not that I don't trust her, but I'm scared that it'll change how she sees me. That she'll… leave."

He's thought about telling her ever since Tommy had advertently or inadvertently opened that particular can of worms. But his fear has always held him back. While his heart likes to tell him that she would still want to be his friend and someday (hopefully soon) even more than that, his brain is more pessimistic than that, picturing her reaction in vivid detail with slamming doors and never hearing her voice again.

"For what it's worth," Diggle rips him out of his unpleasant thoughts, "I think you should tell her. Not today, not tomorrow, but before you take your relationship to the next level. You know you can trust her. And I really think you should give her a little more credit. All she'll ever want from you is for you to be open and honest with her."

Oliver considers his words for a few seconds and nods in agreement. "Thank you for the advice, Mr. Diggle."

The other man chuckles in response and holds out his hand. "Call me Dig."

Oliver shakes his hand, feeling like a weight has been lifted off him. "Before I start convincing you of letting me up to see Felicity again, can I ask why you brought this up?"

"I told you, she's family, so you can consider this as the talk with the protective, older brother," Dig says jovially before his expression sobers. "But in all seriousness, after hearing so many different things about you, I wanted a chance to form my own opinion by talking to you directly and this was just the first chance I've gotten." He halts for a moment and it seems like he's debating saying more, so Oliver waits patiently.

"Opening her heart to someone is quite difficult for her. The last guy that she let into her life like this? He hurt her in more ways than one and then disappeared from the face of the earth. Not even she can find him." He clenches his jaw, rage flashing through his eyes. "I was hired shortly after he disappeared, because she was scared that he would come back. For a long time afterwards she was just a shell of the woman she is today, barely speaking, barely letting people in. She threw herself into her work and while that resulted in building the cornerstones for her success it was also incredibly unhealthy. It took me almost a year to pick up the pieces and get her to talk to a shrink.

"Look, she'd kick my ass seven ways to Sunday if she knew that I was talking about this, but I _am_ telling you now because I need you to understand that I'll never let anyone treat her like that again. That's why I'm cautious when new people enter her life, that's why I looked into you, and why I confronted you just now. _Nobody_ will break her again. Not while I'm around," he says, eyes boring into Oliver's soul.

"Understand this, Oliver. There's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for this woman. If you hurt her, I _will_ make you pay and you'll never see or talk to her again. Am I making myself clear?"

Oliver watches him closely, wondering not for the first time what exactly happened in her life that would make her friend this protective. Clearly she didn't go through a normal breakup. No, it must've been much worse than that.

"Crystal clear," he answers seriously. "You're a good man, John Diggle, and I'm just beginning to understand how lucky she is to have you in her life." He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his short hair. "I like her. A lot. And I'd love to promise you everything you want to hear, but if my past has taught me anything, it's that life never goes as planned. I just… I want her to be happy. And I hope that she can find that with me." He shrugs helplessly, his brain refusing to find the right words to express everything he wants to say.

"Well then," Diggle says with finality, clapping his hands together. "If you're really sure about this how about you start with bringing her lunch? Even though I'd like the record to show that I'm absolutely advising against it!" He holds out a cautioning hand to him.

"Just let me warn you. She becomes a different person when she enters this intense kind of work zone. Whatever is happening right now has her completely on edge. She's running on fumes and she's bitchy as hell. I've been treated to her loud voice several times in the past 48 hours. Don't take it personally if she kicks you out or lashes out at you. Once this is all over she'll just need a long bubble bath, a case of red wine and a decent night's sleep and she'll be back to normal. This is all just part of the madness."

Oliver grins back at the other man, a mixture of apprehension of what to expect and a feeling of pride to have earned his respect fueling him on. "I'll try to remember that. See you around, Dig, and thank you."

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

He takes a deep, steadying breath before gripping the door handle and pushing into her office. The little heart-to-heart with Diggle had given him a renewed purpose and he feels emotionally lighter than he has in long time. For the first time in the past year, he finds himself wanting to talk about that night. He wants to share that dark part of him with Felicity. Entrust her with one of the darkest moments of his life.

But before he can do that, she needs to get through this crisis and get her company back on track, so for now she's the only one that counts. He will make sure that she has everything she needs to fend off whoever is attacking her system. First up, food and a break.

He's barely taken one step into the room when her voice hits him hard, "I told you to go home, Gerry, so unless you're here to bring me another large coffee you can just leave."

He's never heard her be so cold and dejected before. Oh boy, it sounds like Diggle is right.

"It's actually me," he stutters out, suddenly very unsure of his plan. Maybe he should just give her the food and leave.

Her head whips up in surprise and he sucks in a shocked breath.

She looks… horrible.

And that's definitely not an adjective he thought he'd ever use in relation to her. But right now it just fits.

Her hair is barely held together by a hair band, her sloppy ponytail almost completely falling apart. She's still wearing the same, albeit more rumpled, clothes as she did when she'd hurriedly left on Sunday morning which was a good 50 hours ago. The little make up that she'd bothered with that same morning is smeared around her eyes, calling even more attention to the dark bags under them.

Her eyes narrow at him when she realizes that he's glancing up and down her body and he would swear that he actually feels a little crackle of energy in the air, like lightning is about to hit.

"What do you want?" she asks slowly, voice dangerously low.

"I thought you could take a break and have lunch with me," he soldiers on, holding up the Big Belly Burger bag and cup holder. "I brought burgers and your favorite shake."

She fixes him with an incredulous look. "You want me to take a break and have lunch with you while my whole world is crumbling apart because some asshole managed to infiltrate my system?"

_Don't take it personally._

"Uh, yes? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you could really use a break. When was the last time you ate something or took a shower?"

She doesn't even seem to consider to answer his question and just turns her entire focus back to the screen in front of her. "On your way out you can tell whoever let you up here that they're fired," she finally bites out without looking up.

"Felicity, come on. Just take a quick break. Just a few minutes to refuel," he pleads with her, despite sensing that he's fighting a losing battle.

"Please leave me alone, Oliver. I can't deal with you distracting me right now. This is too important," she explains, voice softening a little bit, but still not looking up.

And oh, wouldn't that be the easy way out right now? Just give into her wish and leave, wait for her to come around when all this is over. But he can't do that. Not when she looks so completely exhausted and close to the brink.

"Take a break, Felicity," he sighs softly, stepping closer.

"Don't tell me what to do," she snaps at him without missing a beat, any sign of softness gone. "Just get out of here and let me do my job."

_Don't take it personally._

Well, he's not giving up that easily. "You look like hell, Felicity. Like actual hell. And to be quite frank you kinda smell like it, too. You need to eat something and drink something that's not coffee, and then take a nap, because at this rate you'll probably have a heart attack in the foreseeable future. You're working yourself into the ground and I'm worried about you."

"I don't give a fuck, Oliver. This is my dream. This is my _life_. I've spent _years_ perfecting the ultimate, impenetrable network and yet somehow someone managed to worm his way in. I don't know how or why, and I certainly don't know how to stop him from destroying my life. Do you understand that, Oliver? Do you understand what is at stake here? My research projects, my system prototypes, every analysis, everything I've ever come up with, my _entire_ company is about to be destroyed and I have no idea how to stop that from happening, and you want to eat a fucking burger with me?" She's breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down, her eyes burning with rage. "Get the hell out and let me save whatever is left to be saved."

_Don't take it personally._

But Dig's earlier warning words just sound hollow and empty at this point.

Despite what other people think about him, he's not stupid. If he lets his head work instead of his heart, he can work out what is happening right now. He knows that this anger and the hurtful words aren't directed at him. Not really. She's angry with whoever managed to break through her system. She's probably even angrier with herself for not preventing it. She probably feels like she's failed her company and her employees. She probably feels like _she's_ a failure.

Somehow his brain is able to conceive all of those possibilities and yet his heart accepts neither of them. Because her words _hurt_. Her tone _hurts_. Her dismissal of his help _hurts_. Not being able to take care of her _hurts_. Everything in this moment just fucking hurts and he wants it to stop.

Feeling all of that hurt is what finally makes him take a step back and he can practically feel all the fight leave his body in obvious resignation.

Slowly, he puts down the food on her cluttered desk, trying to come up with something, anything, to say, but his mind draws a blank. There's nothing left to say. Not while she's in this state of mind.

God, he should've taken Dig's advice more seriously and just left the food for her at the front desk. But no, he had thought that he was special. The exception.

Had he really thought she'd greet him with open arms and a loving, grateful smile for being so worried about her well-being? Had he really been _that_ naïve?

Without another word or even a glance in her direction, he heads straight for the door, only able to take another breath when it closes with a soft thud behind him.

_This is all just part of the madness._

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	6. Chapter 6

 

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On Wednesday night, just after midnight, she'd officially declared herself the winner of the war against the nameless hacking troll who'd tried (and almost succeeded) to tear her down. It was a long and exhausting fight that she'd almost lost her grip on a couple of times. Almost.

The hacker had made one mistake that would prove to cost him dearly. There had been wave after wave of little, focused breaches of her usually impenetrable security, which meant that she had little breaks in between that she could use to dispatch string upon string of code to patch and reinforce the holes in her system. One after one, those temporary repairs always bought a little more time in between attacks, and she made good use of that time.

It was sometime on Tuesday afternoon while she was munching away on one of the cold but still delicious Big Belly Burgers that Oliver had left behind when she realized the attacker's critical mistake. Even though the DNS hadn't been configured, the subroot had been, and by accessing one of the most inner layers of her system the wank had set off a packets' feedback that she was able to back trace to a virtual IP address. It wasn't a physical location because the address was rerouted so many times that it made her dizzy, but it was still a massive victory.

After that welcome turn of events she'd gone on the offensive. Let it be said, that you don't ever want to be on the receiving end of one of Felicity Smoak's hacks. Within hours she'd obliterated his system, using the renewed surge of energy, she'd used a skeleton key to penetrate his system and sent a kill code that fried his entire system.

BOOM! Win for Felicity Smoak.

Even though the quick look around his system that she'd allowed herself before the destruction hadn't yielded any hard evidence to the hacker's identity, she only knew one person that was good and _stupid_ enough to even attempt to attack her. It's the one person she never wanted to think about again.

She'd almost cracked and told Iris and Caitlin about her suspicions when she'd checked in with them to let them know everything was okay. But she'd choked, deciding it was better to leave that particularly nasty can of worms unopened.

He'd already dominated her life once before, and she'd sworn herself to never let it happen again. Not now, not ever. She's not the naïve, gullible woman that had let him bully her around. No, the last piece of that Felicity had died the moment his fist had connected with her body for the first time. The last trace of her mostly carefree life had been washed away in a mixture of rain and blood as he'd left her to die in a dark alley in Boston.

She shudders violently when all those feelings and emotions she's been bottling up for years rush back all at once. The fear, the pain, the despair, the hopelessness. She lets it all wash over her for ten seconds, promising herself to never feel that way again, before she forcefully pushes all of it down, back into the box that she never lets herself so much as think of.

She angrily wipes at the single tear that is slowly making its way down her cheek. She's cried enough over the coward and she's just _done_. He doesn't deserve her tears, not after all the emotional and physical horrors he put her through.

With all her might she pulls herself out of the depressing thoughts of her past and back into the here and now. God knows she has a big enough problem in the present: an unfairly handsome and charming award-winning actor that she's able to call her friend for reasons that still evade her grasp. At least she _hopes_ she can still call him a friend.

She'd tried calling and texting Oliver a good dozen times all day yesterday and today, but the only sign of life she'd gotten yesterday was a short ' **Sorry, busy w/ promotions all day-O'.**

The sudden feeling of rejection had hit her hard and fast and she'd swallowed heavily against the emotions that had constricted her throat. A part of her tells her that she deserves his brusque answer, of course, after the way she'd treated him, but it still hurts.

Even though, if she's honest, she only has pretty hazy memories of what exactly happened between them. Those three days of constantly being on edge are a blurry mess of images and words flung around, but nothing very specific. Diggle's pointed glare when she'd asked him how bad it'd been told her all she needed to know.

But now, after getting two full nights of sleep, catching up on her meals and taking several long baths to relax her stiff and tired muscles, she finally feels like herself again and like she's ready to face him and apologize.

It was during one of those long baths that she decided on a course of action. She'd texted him a few more times throughout the day to see if he'd be home tonight, but after not receiving an answer all day, she'd decided (with an air of annoyance) to confront him directly without waiting for him to answer.

She knows that she's the one that needs to apologize, but for goodness sake, it's not that hard to at least acknowledge her attempts by texting back a simple 'ok' or 'no, leave me alone' or actually picking up the fucking phone. Anything would be better than this oppressing silence. They're adults, damnit, and adults talk about issues and don't pull this high school silent treatment shit!

But she'd swallowed down her frustrations this afternoon and had gone shopping instead, which is why she now finds herself in front of Oliver's door with two pints of ice cream – mint chip for her, chocolate fudge brownie for him - a really nice bottle of red wine and a bag of Arcus' favorite treats.

Her wide, hopeful smile falls quickly when the door is yanked open and she's faced with a beautiful redhead instead of Oliver. The woman looks vaguely familiar, but Felicity just can't place her in that moment.

"Uh, hi," she stutters out, "is… is Oliver home?"

The redhead narrows her eyes in barely held back disdain, chewing loudly on some gum. "Who are you?"

"I'm Felicity, I'm his… uh… neighbor," she finishes lamely, not sure how to categorize herself in front of his… guest.

"Are we too loud?" Red asks around her gum. And seriously, can she please close her fucking mouth while chewing?!

Only now Felicity realizes that there's music and voices drifting over from inside the apartment. Huh, that probably means she can trudge back down to her place and spend another evening without seeing him and clearing the air.

"No," she settles on answering, "I actually live two floors down, so I didn't hear a peep."

"Well, then what do you want?"

Isn't that a good question? She wants to be back in his comforting arms, she wants to turn back time to a perfect Sunday morning (however short it had lasted), she wants to apologize, she wants to run far, far away because he's clearly busy and not agonizing over their time apart like she is.

She's about to do just that and make a hasty retreat, when Oliver's familiar frame appears out of seemingly nowhere behind the redhead. "What's going on, Carrie?"

Of course. Carrie, as in Carrie Cutter, it suddenly clicks in her head. She's one of his costars in the new movie that's scheduled to be released soon, but since she's usually a blonde, Felicity didn't recognize her at first.

With a pang, she flashes back to the various Page Six headlines of the rumored on-set affair between Oliver and Carrie that allegedly started right when filming commenced. Rumors that Oliver had vehemently denied multiple times through his publicists, but still… some pretty suggestive photos of the two after a night out with the entire cast hadn't exactly supported his denial.

"Just some crazy fan who says she's your neighbor," Carrie almost purrs at him, wrapping her hands possessively around his bicep.

"Hey!" she exclaims indignantly before she can stop herself. "I'm not crazy."

"Whatevs," Carrie shoots back with a disinterested look.

"Felicity?" Oliver asks, sounding equal parts surprised and confused, but not necessarily unhappy.

"Yeah, hey, hi," she answers with a wince. And great, she's back to stuttering like an idiot apparently. "I texted you… a couple of times and then thought I'd just stop by and see if you wanted to hang out, but clearly you're busy, so I'll just…" she awkwardly points her thumb behind her towards the elevator.

"No, wait," he exclaims hurriedly and extricates himself out of Carrie's grip, before dismissing her with a simple, "Please give us a minute, Carrie," which earns Felicity a venomous glare from the redhead before she trudges back into the apartment.

"I'm sorry," they blurt out at the same time after a slightly awkward beat of silence.

Oliver chuckles at the comical timing and Felicity quickly uses the opportunity to speak. "Wait, what the hell would _you_ be sorry for?" she asks, seriously confused. She's the one who acted like a bitch.

He steps closer, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, for not replying to your texts and calls and, you know, for barging in like I did on Tuesday."

"Oliver," she tries to protest, but is swiftly cut off by him.

"No, look," he sighs, "Diggle warned me of what could happen if I interrupted you only minutes before I came up to see you and I chose to ignore it because..." he cuts himself off with a tiny shake of his head and tries again, "I should've listened to him, but instead I thought I could magically convince you to take a break and when that didn't happen I reacted like a petulant child and ignored your texts and calls."

How is this man even for real? Here he is taking the blame for what happened.

"I don't deserve you," she mutters, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes while quickly putting down the bag of goodies and closing the gap between them, engulfing him in a tight hug. And good god, had she missed being in his arms.

"No," he whispers into her hair, "you deserve much better."

She pulls back a little, not enough to leave his embrace, but enough to look up and meet his gaze. "Don't say that, Oliver. You're a good man! Tuesday proved that once again. Not to mention what you just did right here."

He smiles down at her with a hopeful twist of his lips. "So we're okay?"

"Not yet," she says, tightening her hold in reassurance when his smile falters. "It's my turn to apologize."

"You were stressed out and worried and you really don't have to-"

"Yes, I do," she cuts him off. "The circumstances of the situation don't excuse how I reacted. I should've never lashed out with words when all you were trying to do was get me to take care of myself. So, I want to thank you for bringing me my favorite food, and say that I'm truly sorry for kicking you out like I did." She has to swallow heavily against the onslaught of emotions before she can continue, "I honestly don't know what I said. It's all one big blur of memories, but from your reaction I can tell that I hurt you and that's something I never wanted to do."

He nods slowly, a beautiful smile making its way back onto his lips. "You're forgiven."

She wants to protest and tell him that she needs to do more to earn his forgiveness, but the soft glint in his eyes and his beaming smile rob her of any words, so she lets him pull her back against his chest where she takes a deep, reassuring breath.

Everything is okay.

"Did everything turn out alright at the company?" he mumbles into her hair after a minute or two.

"Yeah," she sighs, "I patched up everything and my employees are sifting through the data to make sure no confidential information was stolen, but so far so good."

"Do you think whoever did this was after something specific?"

"I honestly have no idea," she answers, some of her frustrations seeping back in. "It was a powerful attack, nothing I've ever experienced at the company before, but at the same time it was kind of aimless. The virus just kept attacking different areas without any distinct pattern or obvious goal behind it. It almost seems like it was just for the heck of it, maybe a test run to get a feeling for my security, but not to steal or destroy anything. Not this time at least."

"Do you know who was behind it?"

She stiffens a little in his arms, her mind going back to an all too familiar and unwelcome face.

This time Oliver pulls back a little to lock his eyes on hers with barely contained concern. "Felicity?"

She bites her lip in contemplation. She's not ready to share this particular part of her life with him, especially not while they're standing in the hallway in front of his apartment while he has other guests he should probably get back to. Not to mention the precious ice cream that is currently melting in the bag that's sitting on the floor next to them.

"I have a hunch who it might be," she finally admits, "but I have no hard evidence to prove it, just a gut feeling."

Oliver's eyebrows draw together in a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Someone you know?"

"Someone I used to know and would rather not meet again," she says decidedly and sighs. "Whoever it really was, I've destroyed his system and put extra precautions in my own security into effect, so I hope there won't be a repeat of what happened anytime soon."

The look in his eyes tells her that he wants to press her for more information on the identity of the hacker and what happened the last time they crossed paths, but she just shakes her head and leans back against his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the erratic one of her own.

One of his hands moves soothingly over her back, right along her spine, the other sprawled softly against the small of her back, emitting a reassuring warmth. "I'm here when you're ready to talk about it," he whispers into her ear, making her shudder at how deliciously his hot breath hits the shell of her ear, while a huge wave of gratitude ripples through her body.

Has she mentioned that she doesn't deserve this man?

"Well, well, well," a female voice rips them out of their intimate moment, "if it isn't brother dearest in the arms of yet _another_ woman. And here the world had thought you'd left your philandering days behind you. Guess Tommy was right after all."

"Thea," Oliver acknowledges the appearance of what seems to be his sister, Felicity realizes with a slight bout of horror, without loosening his grip on her.

"Is she the same gold-digger from a few weeks ago or a different one?"

Wow! What's even happening right now? Why are people from Oliver's life always labeling her as the floozy of the hour before even talking to her?

"Twenty plus years of knowing Tommy should've taught you by now that you shouldn't believe everything he says," Oliver grumbles back, lips still dangerously close to her ear. And holy crap, his growly, super sexy voice is back. Talk about instant aphrodisiac!

"So you're saying he lied to me?" Even with her face pressed against Oliver's chest, turned away from the younger Queen, Felicity can hear the serious doubt and slight animosity in her voice. "You didn't kick him out to be alone with a woman he'd never seen you with before? You didn't threaten to punch him even though she was the one who insulted him?"

"No, he didn't lie, but it seems like he told you a very one-sided version of what happened," Oliver exclaims, pulling away from Felicity to face his sister, a look of irritation on his face. "He was a drunk asshole and he would've deserved a hard slap in the face for the things he said."

Thea studies him for a few seconds, taking in the new information before her inquisitive gaze lands on the blonde woman in front of her who may or may not squirm a little under the scrutiny. It's in that moment that Felicity's eternally grateful for not choosing to stay in her comfort clothes of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie and has instead opted for throwing on actual clothes before coming up here. The dark jeans and loose shirt probably still don't make a super positive impression in Thea Queen's fashion book, but it's definitely better than the alternative.

After too many beats of silence, Oliver sighs audibly, resigning himself to the inevitability of the two women meeting for the first time. He motions between them. "Thea, this is my friend Felicity. Felicity, this is my sister Thea."

They shake hands amicably, but Thea's eyes narrow at the introduction. "Wait, are you _the_ Felicity?"

"Uh, well, I'm _a_ Felicity. There's quite a few others with that name out there, even if it's not the most common one," the blonde answers in confusion that only grows when she sees a little red shimmer appear on Oliver's cheeks.

"I think we should go inside," he suggests a little bit too quickly and tries to usher them inside, but Thea is having none of it, digging her heels into the ground.

"No, I mean you're Ollie's Felicity. I swear the man hasn't stopped talking about you ever since you guys met. It's always 'Felicity did this' or 'Felicity said that'. It would be super cute if it didn't make me wanna puke rainbows from all the fluffy happiness," the younger woman tells her, undeterred by the daggers a blushing Oliver is throwing her way.

If Felicity's honest, the one-eighty the younger woman just pulled has the potential of giving her whiplash, but then again, a gushing Thea is better than a not so passive aggressive Thea.

But wait a second! Oliver had told his sister about her? Repeatedly?

"You told her about me?" she asks, turning to the man in question, her tone somewhere between incredulous and teasing.

His eyes widen a little and he opens and closes his mouth unsuccessfully a few times before words finally tumble out in a stutter, "Uhhh… I mean… I've… yeah, I've told her about, you know, stuff."

"Is it true that you get along with Arcus like crazy and that you looked after him only one day after meeting him for the first time?" Thea interjects, barely containing her laughter at her brother's unusually flustered behavior.

Felicity smirks at Oliver before turning to his sister. "Yeah, we had a real bonding experience with the whole being stuck in an elevator thing, I guess," she shrugs lightly.

Thea chuckles at that, but sobers quickly when a thought seems to hit her. "But wait, are you the same blonde woman that Tommy met here a few weeks ago?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Felicity answers before Oliver can.

"But what happened? If you're actually as amazing as Ollie has made you out to be, I can't imagine that Tommy wouldn't like you."

"I guess we just got off on the wrong foot?"

"No," Oliver interrupts, "you did nothing wrong. _He_ was being a major dick that night and kept insulting you, so I kicked him out."

"He told me that you kicked him out so you could, and I quote, 'hook up with the blonde gold digger bitch'," Thea argues with growing confusion, clearly torn between the two versions of what happened.

Oliver had told Felicity one evening about how Tommy has basically been an honorary member of the Queen family his entire life, spending more time at their place than at his own. All through their childhood he'd been more like another brother to the Queen siblings than just a friend of the family, so she can understand that Thea must be struggling to decide which brother she should believe.

Felicity watches how Oliver's whole demeanor changes, taking on the same apprehension he'd had during the night in question. His jaw's clenched, hands balled up into tight fists, and a dangerous energy is radiating off his body.

"Well, that's not what happened," she quickly throws in, hoping to calm Oliver down with her voice. "He didn't just verbally attack _me,_ though, he also threw some nasty words at your brother, so he absolutely deserved to be kicked out."

Thea's eyebrows furrow in contemplation. "He has been acting a bit off these past few months, but I thought it was just because of work or something. I'll see if I can talk some sense into him." She claps her hands together then, startling the others. "How about we start over?" She suggests but plows on without waiting for an answer, "Are you two coming inside or should I tell everybody else that we're relocating the party to the hallway?" she quips, cutting right through the terse atmosphere.

"Uh, I actually didn't come to crash your shindig," Felicity says and then adds, "Well, I guess I kinda already did, but I didn't know you were having friends over, so it wasn't an intentional crashing of your shindig."

"It's fine, Felicity," Oliver stops her ramble with a chuckle. "I'm just having a few of my cast mates over because they're all in town for a big panel we're doing on the weekend and we all haven't seen each other since we wrapped filming last summer."

"Oh, well, then that's all the more reason to leave you to it and catch you another time," she tries again. "I really don't mean to intrude."

"Nonsense," Thea comes to her brother's help, and great, they're teaming up against her. "I already crashed this thing and invited myself over so I could meet Roy Harper. He's such a hottie," she gushes, totally ignoring the disgusted look from Oliver. "Speaking of which, I'm sure he's wondering what's taking me so long. Felicity, regardless of your decision, it's nice to finally put a face to the name. I hope to see more of you from now on."

Without waiting for a response she rushes back inside, leaving the two standing alone in the hallway again.

"Well, what do you think? Are you joining us?"

How can she say 'no' when he's giving her his insanely cute puppy dog eyes?

"Fine, but I'd like a rain check on ice cream and red wine night," she warns him as she picks up the forgotten bag, trying to cover up the way she basically starts to swoon when he smiles happily at her.

"Definitely," he promises, and then stops her with a hand to her forearm when she tries to move past him, color rising back to his cheeks. "And just for the record, Thea was exaggerating back there. I don't talk about you that much. Not in a creepy, stalker-y way, ya know," he babbles.

She just lets out an indulgent sigh and steps on her tiptoes, closing the distance to his ear. "Don't worry about it. I think we're even on that front. I talk about you, too," she assures him and presses a sweet kiss to his stubbled cheek, before sauntering past him and into his apartment, adding just a little more sway to her hips.

She swears she hears him mutter an almost desperate, "Sweet Jesus", when she's a few feet in front of him.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂ ARROW ⁂ **⁂** **⁂**  
**

 

This is a bad idea.

A Bad Idea.

How could he have ever thought that it'd be a good idea to introduce Felicity to his cast mates?

Somehow she'd managed to wrap every single person around her little finger in a matter of seconds within introducing herself and starting an epic fan girl babble on how she was seconds away from a nervous breakdown over all the hotness in the room.

Two of his male co-stars, Ray Palmer and Jay Garrick, had appointed themselves her personal entertainment for the night, whisking her away to the couch to talk to her. He's not sure if she somehow sensed his wariness or if it was just a coincidence that she looked up at him before leaving with the two men, giving him a wink to let him know she was okay with the situation.

So he'd relaxed a bit, grabbing another beer and going back to mingling with the others, always keeping one eye on his bubbly blonde who'd sat down on the couch, already a glass of red wine in one hand, gesticulating wildly with the other in typical Felicity fashion. Needless to say that Palmer and Garrick were staring at her in wonder, eyes basically glued to her lips, eagerly lapping up every word.

Of course they hadn't been the only ones. Arcus hadn't left her side ever since spotting her, and the love-whore of a dog had chosen to sit right in front of her, head in her lap, nudging her with his nose whenever her fingers dare to stop carding through his fur.

Despite not being super happy about not being able to stay by her side, Oliver had felt a surge of pride at seeing how seamlessly this incredible woman managed to fit into yet another part of his life.

A feeling that had quickly turned into irritation when he'd watched with a deep scowl as the two men had escorted her over to the pool table, making a very hands-on show out of teaching her how to hold the cue and lining up a shot.

"You'll break the bottle if you squeeze any harder, Ollie," his sister teases him after he apparently spaced out on their conversation. Again.

He forces his hands to relax the death grip and turns his focus back to his annoyingly perceptive sibling.

"Are you going to do anything about that?" she presses on, lifting a questioning eyebrow and pointing her glass in the direction of the pool table.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answers through gritted teeth.

"Really? You don't know what I'm talking about? That's what you're going with?" she scoffs in return. "Your eyes are basically shooting daggers into the poor guys."

He furrows his brows, trying to get his expression under control. "I'm doing no such thing."

"Ollie, you haven't taken your eyes off of that woman, glaring at every man that talks to her or simply stands too close to her for that matter. You look like a goddamn puppy that had his favorite toy stolen."

"She's not a toy, Thea," he hisses before he can stop himself.

His sister studies him for a few seconds before beginning to speak again, weighing her words carefully, "You like her." It's a simple enough statement, but somehow it carries so much more weight with it.

He swallows hard and nods jerkily, finding his sister's eyes. "Yeah, I do. She's…" he trails off, running a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to think of an adequate way of describing her. "She's amazing, Thea. She's smart and funny and, look at her, she's absolutely beautiful. There's nothing fake about her, she's just herself all the time. And, you know, she's actually a really successful business woman. That new photo app you can't stop talking about? Her company developed that." Yeah, okay, maybe he's gushing a bit. But how can you not when talking about Felicity?

"Wow, seriously?" she asks, turning her awed gaze towards the blonde across the room.

"Yeah," he replies with a note of pride. "She's like the total package."

"She must be or otherwise you wouldn't have threatened to punch your best friend," Thea points out gently, clearly fishing for the whole story of what happened.

Oliver sighs and takes a long swig from his beer, contemplating his response. "Tommy and I haven't been on the same page for a while now," he finally offers.

"Yeah, but he's your best friend. You've gone through rough patches before."

"We have, but this is different. He doesn't accept the fact that I've changed and that I'm not interested in getting shitfaced every other night and hooking up with random girls anymore. Maybe he's not as bad as he used to be a few years ago, but still, it's like at some point I turned left and he turned right and he still thinks we're on the same path while we're just _not_."

"Well, maybe that's partly because you never did tell us why you suddenly changed?" His sister questions without any accusation in her tone. "Don't get me wrong, Ollie, I'm glad that you changed and that you got your shit together. For so many years I felt like I had lost my brother to the Hollywood frenzy, and then suddenly I had _my_ Ollie back. The one that would stay with me instead of going out with his friends when mom and dad went on a business trip and left us with the staff, and not the one that I only ever got to see on magazine covers and movie posters for so many years. But while I'm glad that you changed, I also don't know the reason behind it. Same thing goes for Tommy."

"Thea," he starts, not sure what he's supposed to say.

She cuts him off with a raised hand and a firm shake of her head. "My point is that the difference between Tommy and me is that I'm willing to wait until you're ready to explain what happened and just be grateful to have you back in my life until then. I think Tommy feels like after all the things you've gone through over the years you decided to just ditch him and do your own thing and never even tell him why."

"I don't think he'd understand," he sighs. "Apart from the fact that he's working in his dad's company now, he's literally the same playboy asshole that he was seven or eight years ago. And yes, before you say anything, I was right there with him back then, but I'm not anymore and now I just don't understand his behavior." He lets out an angry breath, remembering that night with Felicity. "God, you would've wanted to punch him, too, for the things he said, Speedy. I wasn't just angry, I was actually embarrassed to call him my best friend."

"How did Felicity react? Tommy said she insulted him?"

He chuckles in response, "Well, she did basically tell him that he was a dick."

"Woah, no wonder he was pissed," Thea guffaws at the mental image of Tommy being put in his place by the tiny blonde. "Did you brood alone in the dark afterwards?"

"Haha," he says dryly. "And no, Felicity stayed and we talked a little more."

"Huh, she really does have you wrapped around her little finger, doesn't she?"

He knows that it's meant to be a joke, but he can't find it in him to deny his sister's assessment. He's without a shred of a doubt completely and irrevocably wrapped around Felicity's little finger.

His gaze drifts over to the blonde that has been occupying the majority of his thoughts for the past couple of months. Her head is thrown back in laughter at whatever Palmer said, Arcus still diligently by her feet. Good god, if a happy and laughing Felicity isn't a sight to behold.

"So again, what are you going to do about it?" Thea rips through his musings once more. "She looks pretty chummy with Ray over there. Might wanna get into the game before he makes his move and snatches her away from you," she warns him playfully, patting his chest before sauntering off to probably find that little punk Roy again.

He glares after her for being so annoyingly observant once again, trying and absolutely failing to not let the thought of the other actor making a move on his girl get to him.

His girl?

Fuck! Felicity would have his head if she knew that he was being such a possessive Neanderthal in his head.

Emptying his bottle and taking a calming breath, he makes his way over to the little group surrounding the pool table, catching the tail end of their conversation.

"I'd be happy to show you again how to hold the cue correctly, Felicity. I'm sure my superior teaching skills would have you beat every single person in this room by the end of the night," Palmer suggests, stepping closer to her. That asshole.

"What's happening over here?" he cuts in, jaw clenched a little too tightly.

Felicity's lips tick up in a soft smile but quickly morph back into the displeased frown. "I lost," she grumbles, motioning towards the pool table behind her that still holds quite a few striped balls.

"But you did sink two balls," Garrick points out with an encouraging smile. "That's not too shabby for playing the first time."

"Well, how about the two of us have a go at it?" Oliver suggests, holding out his hand to accept the cue stick from Palmer who gives it to him reluctantly. "And to give you some extra motivation we can add a little wager."

Her eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. "What kind of a wager?"

"Mhh," he hums in contemplation. "How about if you sink more than five of your balls, I'll cook dinner for you?"

She bites her bottom lip and smiles sweetly up at him. "You already do that on a semi regular basis, so that wouldn't be different than how we usually spend our nights." She slams her eyes shut and shakes her head. "You know what I mean."

Yes, yes he does. And now maybe Palmer and Garrick will take a hint and back the fuck off.

"Alright, what do you propose?" he challenges her playfully, letting everything else around them turn into white noise in the background.

"How about if I sink five or more of my balls you give me a neck and shoulder massage," she suggests after a few moments of contemplation, coy smile playing on her lips.

"Okay," he says slowly, voice involuntarily an octave lower than usual. Where did that idea come from? "What if you don't get five?"

She licks her lips slowly, stepping closer to him, well into his personal space. "Then I'll give you the massage."

Fuck.

Is it getting hot in here? Because, holy hell, this woman is going to be the death of him.

He swallows heavily, forcing down all the images that enter his mind at the thought of her fingers running over his shoulders and…

"Deal?" she asks, stretching out her hand for him to shake, beaming up at him.

"Bring it, Smoak," he replies with as much confidence as he can muster, which isn't actually all that much, considering that he can't believe what he just got himself into, while gently shaking her soft hand.

"Oh, I will, Queen. Better buckle up," she throws over her shoulder and bends over the table to collect the remaining balls, sticking her glorious jean-clad butt out towards him.

Yup, he's completely screwed.

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 


	7. Chapter 7

_"Bring it, Smoak," he replies with as much confidence as he can muster, which isn't actually all that much considering that he can't believe what he just got himself into, while gently shaking her soft hand._

_"Oh, I will, Queen. Better buckle up," she throws over her shoulder and bends over the table to collect the remaining balls, sticking her glorious jean-clad butt out towards him._

_Yup, he's completely screwed._

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

He takes a deep breath and slams his eyes shut, both actions doing nothing to erase the mental image of Felicity bending over the pool table right in front of him from his mind.

He should've said no. How is he gonna get through an entire game of pool with her without completely losing it?

Speaking of losing… what the fuck is wrong with him for agreeing to the massage thing? He can't possibly sit through getting a massage from her without going absolutely crazy. But losing would mean that he'd have to give her a massage which seems only marginally more manageable than the other option. Fucking catch-22.

"Do you wanna break?" the woman in question asks him then, her voice sweet and playful.

He opens his eyes and exhales slowly. "If you don't want to," he manages to say without stuttering.

"Nah, go ahead. Maybe I can get some pointers off of your form," she replies with a wink and bumps her hip lightly into his as she passes him to stand next to the table to wait her turn.

He's not entirely sure what has brought out her flirty side tonight. Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's pent-up energy being released after the last few stressful days, maybe it's even the relief that their friendship is still intact after hitting its first real bump. Either way, he's not gonna complain. He loves flirty Felicity. And any other Felicity.

"Better watch closely then," he throws back, deciding to play along with the flirtiness while she's offering it up so freely, and lines up his first shot just off center of the racked balls, watching as they bounce apart when the cue ball hits.

"Not bad," she chimes and basically saunters past him, leaning down to line up her own shot. "Tell me, am I holding the stick correctly?"

Oh, dear god.

He steps closer to her, inspecting her stance and grip on the cue while clutching onto his self-control. "Uh, you're holding it pretty tightly. Maybe relax your hand a little bit."

She does as he says, but keeping her eyes on his. "How's that?"

"Better. Yeah, that's better. But your body is still a little tense," he says, pausing for a second. "I thought Palmer and Garrick already told you how to do this?"

Speaking of those two, Oliver tears his eyes away from her and looks around, only to find that the other men left them to mingle with the rest of the cast and crew, leaving him alone with Felicity.

She huffs out an exaggerated, dreamy sigh, "Yeah, they kinda did, but I was mostly concentrating on not breaking out into an inappropriate babble about their abs, so I didn't really hear anything they said."

"Is that why you're already on your second glass of wine? Because you're starstruck?" he muses with a teasing smile, motioning to her half full glass on a nearby table.

"Well, yeah," she shrugs. "They're hot. And they're world famous stars. How could I not be starstruck?"

"You're not starstruck when you're around me," he points out, trying to decide if that's a good or bad thing.

"I was when I first met you, though," she admits, "and I babbled back then, too."

"You did," he grins. "It was awesome."

She swats his chest lightly. "No, it wasn't. It was mortifying. I figured you'd think that I was just some crazy fan trying to get into your pants."

"In my defense, that's usually the case," he teases her with a wide smile.

"Well, I _wasn't_ , so you can wipe that smirk off your face, Queen."

"You know you like it," he pushes, enjoying their little banter.

"Pff, no, I don't," she counters, voice wobbling a little bit, but her eyes aren't wavering from his. "Arrogance isn't exactly a character trait that I find attractive in men, you know."

He regards her for a few seconds, smiling down at her, before nodding and stepping away. "Duly noted." He motions toward the table. "Are you gonna play or is this you forfeiting?"

She huffs and turns her attention back to the game, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in the position of every ball. With way too much confidence for a supposed beginner she leans down, takes on a perfect stance and shoots. She sinks a striped ball with just the right amount of force so that the cue ball comes to a stop in a perfect position for the next shot.

With a smirk she turns around and pats his cheek. "On second thought, maybe _you_ should watch me closely to learn a thing or two."

She rounds the table to line up her next shot, sinking it without a problem.

Oh, he's so screwed.

She's totally hustling him right now.

And he completely fell for her innocent beginner act.

She's already sunk two more balls before he wills his body into action. If she wants to play dirty, he'll play dirty just as hard.

She's in the middle of taking her next shot when he comes to a stop at the opposite side of the table, right in her extended line of sight. Just when she's drawing back the cue to hit the ball he grabs the hem of his Henley and slowly pulls it up and over his head, making sure that the plain white t-shirt he's wearing underneath rides up and exposes his abs.

Sadly, she doesn't miss completely, but the striped ball intended for the corner pocket _does_ bounce off the wall and comes to a stop a few inches off the target. Mission accomplished.

He smirks at her triumphantly, quickly shucks away the Henley and sinks one of his solids before she can come up with a plan to retaliate. He's not sure if he's dreading or looking forward to whatever she'll come up with to distract him.

As it turns out he doesn't have to wait long to find out. Just when he's lining up his next shot she bends down at the waist to pick up his discarded Henley, his eyes immediately falling to her exquisite ass. Needless to say that he misses the shot.

It's her turn to triumphantly smirk and god help him if that hint of cockiness doesn't look sexy as hell on her.

She pushes the bunched up garment against his chest. "I think you lost something, even though I'm not _ever_ going to complain about getting an up close glimpse of those abs in real life," she teases and makes a show of letting her eyes slowly drift over his body. "Let's finish this, shall we?" she challenges and moves to line up her next shot when Oliver realizes that this is indeed the winning fifth ball for her.

He leans against the table right next to her, making sure that his hip is pressing into hers. She glares briefly up at him but soon turns her focus back to the shot. Just like before, he waits until she draws back the cue and leans down, letting his breath ghost over the shell of her ear as he whispers, "Better not miss, Felicity."

Her ball hits the edge of the side pocket and bounces in the wrong direction.

She straightens up abruptly and whirls around, trapping him between her petite body and the table, glaring up at him.

"That wasn't nice," she says slowly, letting her tongue dart out to wet her lips.

He swallows down the images of what he'd like to do to those lips and shrugs as nonchalantly as possible. "All's fair in love and war."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Be careful what you wish for," she warns and backs away with a confident smile.

Fuck. Has he mentioned that he's screwed?

He tries to ready himself for whatever she has planned when he leans over the table to take the next shot. Right on cue, he feels her fingers slowly wander over the small of his back, the heat from her hand basically seeping through the barely there material of his shirt. He sucks in a sharp breath when one warm fingertip lands on some exposed skin where his shirt has ridden up.

Just breathe, Queen, this isn't the first time a woman has touched you, for heaven's sake. Stop being a pubescent teenager and man the fuck up.

After two deep breaths he thinks he got himself under control, at least enough to take a shot, not even caring if he'll hit or miss.

He's proven so _very_ wrong when her wandering hand slips into the back pocket of his jeans without warning.

He doesn't even hit the cue ball.

He goes stock still, remaining leaned over the table and waiting for her reaction to his horrible attempt of a shot. Slowly, oh so fucking slowly, she pulls her hand back out, but not without letting her fingernails scratch over his backside. He barely manages to contain his moan.

She leans down to his ear, mimicking his earlier action. "Might wanna work on that eye-hand coordination, buddy."

"Mh-hmm," he hums through clenched teeth. "You seem to be much more adept with your hands."

She winks at him with a mischievous smile, snatching his cue from his numb hands, and walks around the table once more. His eyes follow her movements closely, watching her nimble fingers work the little block of chalk over the tip of her cue before leaning forward and –fuck!- sinking the fifth and winning ball.

Instead of celebrating her win, Felicity sinks the remaining two striped balls and black 8-ball with quick and precise moves, effectively winning the whole game, not just their bet.

"Better warm up those fingers, Queen," she says with a smirk as she puts her cue down on the table.

Wordlessly, he steps closer to her, locking his eyes on hers. With a devious smile she backs away until her butt hits the edge of the table, preventing her from going any further. He quickly eats up the remaining distance with one long stride, planting both feet on either side of hers, a mere inch separating his body from touching hers.

"You hustled me," he growls, dipping his head so he can look at her, the height difference between them forcing the blonde to crane her neck so she can meet his eyes with an innocent twinkle in her own.

She shrugs and barely contains a triumphant smile. "Maybe you should've known better than to agree to a bet with a Vegas girl," she points out cheekily, eliciting another low, disapproving growl from him.

He doesn't miss the way her whole body shudders slightly at that or the way her eyes darken just a little bit. Is it weird that he's pretty darn proud of himself for being the cause of it?

"I think since you lured me into this game under false pretenses you should be denied your prize," he argues, making sure she can hear the note of teasing in his voice.

"Is it my fault that you and the other guys were too busy staring at my ass to realize that I could actually play?" she throws back without missing a beat, lifting a challenging eyebrow.

"I… that's not… I wouldn't…" he splutters, feeling his cheeks turn rosy at being caught. "I'm not even an ass guy," he murmurs petulantly, immediately regretting his words when he sees her playful smirk fall.

"No, if remember your numerous conquests over the years correctly you're a tiny waist, big boobs, long legs and thigh gap kinda guy," she retorts, her tone somewhere between teasing and dejected. She takes a step to the side to move past him and mumbles almost inaudibly, "None of which I'll ever have."

Instinctively his hand shoots out to stop her sudden retreat, grabbing her waist tightly. "Fe-lic-ity," he whispers her name slowly, cupping her cheek with his free hand and trapping her against the pool table once more. He makes sure that she looks him straight in the eye when he says his next words, needing her to understand how absolutely true they are, "Don't ever for even a second believe that I don't think you're absolutely and breathtakingly beautiful." He strokes his thumb softly over her cheek, taking in the shock and wonder shining in her suddenly misty eyes. "Inside and out."

"Oliver," she whispers at a loss for words, looking at him carefully and he can basically see her walls coming up while she decides if she can believe what he said or if he just did it to make her feel better.

Not for the first time, he realizes, this utterly amazing, beautiful and confident woman has problems with being complimented. Instead of making her feel good, they always seem to have the exact opposite effect, drawing out some seemingly deep-seated insecurities that leave her apprehensive and on-guard. Does her reaction have anything to do with the guy from her past that Diggle told him about? The one that had shattered her trust and left her broken?

She's trembling beneath his fingers, her eyes darting back and forth. Once, twice, three times she opens and closes her mouth unsuccessfully. No words, not even a sound make it past her quivering lips.

"Hey," he interrupts her attempts to speak gently, "take a breath. You don't have to say anything."

She nods jerkily in response, words still evading her grasp.

"Look, Felicity," he starts again, filling the silence, "I don't know what or _who_ happened in your life that made you doubt how beautiful and amazing you are, but they were wrong. Dead wrong. Because the Felicity Smoak that I've had the pleasure of getting to know these past two months _is_ beautiful and amazing and kind, and I…" He exhales sharply, stopping himself from saying something neither of them is ready to hear. "I wouldn't want you to be any other way."

He can see her struggle against all of her emotions, her eyes still brimming with tears, but some of the tension leaves her stiff body, giving him the indication that he's on the right track.

Carefully, he brings up his left hand from its position on her waist to rest on her other cheek, gently framing her face. "Whatever happened is your story to tell or _not_ tell and I won't push you to tell me, but I do need you to understand that the offer you made me after the Tommy thing, to be there for me whenever I was ready to talk, goes both ways." He takes a breath, sorting through his jumbled thoughts and everything he wants to tell her. "If you ever wanna talk or if you just need a friendly ear, I'll be right here. You can _always_ talk to me."

She studies him silently for a few seconds, once again searching for any indication that he's not being sincere –and if that doesn't almost break his heart- before she nods slowly. "Thank you, Oliver! I mean it. I really appreciate the offer." Her voice is raw with emotion, so unlike her usually cheerful tone, but he's still glad that he got through to her.

"Anytime," he declares, catching the lonely tear that rolls down her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Anytime."

There's a pause in which they just stare at each other, the sadness in her eyes finally softening into something more hopeful.

She swallows and nods her head again slightly. "I think I'm gonna call it a night. It's been a long few days and," she huffs out a humorless laugh, "evidently I'm a complete emotional mess."

"Don't worry about it. We all have our moments," he assures her, finally dropping his hands from her face. "Come on, Arcus and I will bring you downstairs."

She quickly gathers her keys from the kitchen and bids her goodbyes to the others. If the other cast members witnessed their emotional moment together, they're not letting it show, which Oliver is tremendously grateful for.

Arcus lazily trots after them as they make their way from the elevator to Felicity's door where he automatically sits down and waits for his second favorite human –or maybe favorite human, Oliver isn't even sure anymore at this point- to crouch down and give him a goodbye rub. Of course, the blonde doesn't disappoint and lets her fingers sift through his long black fur in a messy pattern.

"Do you want some company?" Oliver asks softly, reluctant to leave her on her own after these stressful days and the rollercoaster ride of emotions they went through this evening.

She straightens up, her typical soft smile finally back in place on her lips. "I'm good. Thanks for the offer, but you got guests to get back to," she points out.

"Meh, I'd gladly ditch them for you," he shrugs off her argument and really means it. He'd ditch just about anything and anyone to spend time with her. "I could at least leave Arcus with you for the night. He's really good at cheering me up whenever I'm a bit down."

"I'll be alright, Oliver," she assures him and steps up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek that doesn't last nearly long enough. "I think a night alone is exactly what I need."

"Okay," he sighs, admitting defeat. "You know where to find us."

"I do. Thanks again for the offer," she tells him honestly. "Good night, you two."

"Good night," he responds softly and just when she's about to turn around to open her door, he adds, "Let me know when you'd like to redeem your massage."

"Oh, don't worry. I haven't forgotten about that."

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW** **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

A little over a week (that was filled with a whole lot of sleep) later, insistent knocking on her door rips her out of her blissful dream on a Saturday morning. She doesn't even have to check the clock to know that it's an ungodly hour. Only one person would ever be brave or stupid enough to come to her apartment at such an awful time.

Not bothering to put on her glasses, she rolls out of bed and pads through her dim apartment on bare feet.

"We gotta teach your dad some manners," she throws over to where Arcus is lying on his doggy bed, not even bothering to lift his head or open his eyes. So much for being an excellent guard dog.

"I hate you," she says in lieu of an actual greeting when she opens the door, promptly turning back around and trudging towards her kitchen to get the coffee maker going.

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine," Oliver shoots back, closing the door behind him.

"It's not morning, Oliver. It's the middle of the fucking night," she retorts petulantly.

"It's a little past seven, Felicity. That's hardly 'in the middle of the fucking night," he laughs after her, trailing behind. "And why are you making coffee? You should know by now that I wouldn't dare to show up at your doorstep at this time of day without bringing you coffee."

He still hasn't entered the kitchen, probably checking on Arcus in the living room, so she defiantly presses the 'on' button on her coffee machine and goes to the cupboard to rummage for some beans.

"I do actually know that, but I'm getting ready for round two because you know damn well that one cup of coffee doesn't even come close to doing the trick for me."

There's a lengthy pause before Oliver's voice sounds again, a little more flustered and disbelieving this time. "Uh, Felicity? I'm not entirely sure how to ask, but... what happened here?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, confused, ditching her efforts of making coffee and following his voice to the living room.

He's still pretty close to the front door, almost looking like he just froze in place, balancing a cupholder with two steaming coffees, and a paper bag in his hands that hopefully contains her favorite scone. But why would he just stop there, not even greeting Arcus? She lets her tired eyes drift over the open space, taking in the fuzzy sight in front of her. Sure there are a few clothes strewn here and there but that's something he should be used to by now.

"Oh, come on. Since when does my messiness bother you?" she challenges him playfully, stepping closer so he's a little more in focus.

His stunned face turns to her and she can just make out the way his lips turn up at the corner. "You're not wearing any contacts, are you?"

"No, Oliver, I'm not wearing contacts at 7 in the morning after literally just rolling out of bed. Now what's so bad about a few clothes on the floor? I'll pick them up if they really bother you that much. Sheesh…"

"They're not just..." he trails off, shaking his head and moving to usher her towards the kitchen, snickering now. "You should get your glasses."

Could he be any more mysterious?

With an annoyed huff she follows his suggestion, quickly grabbing her glasses from her bedside table, but she stops dead in her tracks when she re-enters the living room, this time with clear eyesight.

Oh my fucking god.

"ARCUS," she shrieks, mouth falling open at the sight in front of her. Her entire living room floor as well as the couch is littered with rather colorful items of clothing. But not just any clothing. Nope!

Her _underwear_.

 _All_ of her underwear by the looks of it.

Her eyes land on the big furry monster that is undoubtedly the culprit, but Arcus seems completely unfazed by her outburst, staring up at her with big, innocent eyes. His paws are firmly placed on one of her favorite thongs, his tail wagging happily, looking so fucking proud of himself.

"Not quite the homecoming I expected, but I'll take it," Oliver quips from a few feet away, a smug grin on his lips replacing his initial hesitation.

"You and your mutt can go wait in the kitchen and make me breakfast for all the grief you've already caused me today while I clean up this mess," she orders, hands resting on her hips in an authoritative manner. One that would probably pack more of a punch if she was wearing more than a ratty old t-shirt and sleep shorts.

"Or I could help you," he retorts and stalks closer, eyes shining with mirth.

"Nope, you got no business being anywhere near my underwear."

His grin widens. "Are you embarrassed of what I might find, Ms. Smoak?"

"Pfff, what? No, of course not," she splutters, feeling heat creep up her cheeks, eyes darting around frantically to see if there _is_ in fact anything potentially embarrassing. "Don't be ridiculous."

Because being a grown ass woman and owning a plethora of comic book inspired panties isn't anything to be embarrassed of, okay?!

"You do realize that I've seen plenty of women's underwear in my life, right?"

"But that doesn't give you the right to see mine. Now take that little treacherous beast of yours and scram before I kick you out for your combined indiscretions," she threatens only half-jokingly.

"Hey, don't call him names," Oliver jumps in to defend his dog with a laugh. "I for one think he deserves a reward for giving me such a delightful welcome home gift."

"You want to reward him for breaking into my closet and living out his weird underwear fetish? Wait, can dogs have fetishes?"

"I don't know. He's never stolen my underwear so if he does have a fetish it apparently only concerns women's underwear, or maybe just yours," he says with a wink.

She glares at him. Stupid smart ass.

"I'm still not smelling any bacon, Queen. Better get on it," she deflects once more, really needing Oliver to stop looking at her assortment of underwear.

He throws up his hands in defeat and laughs, "As you wish." He starts to turn but thinks better of it. "You know, I'm more of a Marvel fan myself, but I can see how Wonder Woman suits you."

Oh my god.

"Go away already. You didn't see anything."

"And yet, I totally diiiiiiiiid," he sing-songs gleefully as he walks back to the kitchen.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Well, that wasn't mortifying at all, she thinks sarcastically, when she slams the door of the washing machine shut after dumping in the last of her collected underwear.

After a quick stop in her closet to put on yoga pants and a hoodie, and another quick stop to brush her teeth, she slowly makes her way back to the kitchen, following the delicious scent of bacon, pancakes, and most importantly, coffee.

"Hey, Diana Prince," Oliver greets her with a cheeky grin.

"Shut up," she grumbles back half-heartedly. "Where's my coffee?"

"Aww, come on. Stop being so grumpy. At least he didn't destroy any of your precious panties and just hoarded them like a big weirdo. No harm, no foul, right?"

His pleading puppy dog eyes match those of Arcus perfectly who's sitting right next to his owner, head tilted ever so slightly, tongue hanging out on one side of his mouth.

Great, she's getting tag teamed by possibly the two cutest beings on this earth. How the hell is she supposed to stay mad at them?

"Fine," she resigns with a sigh. "You're forgiven, Arcus, even though I still don't understand how you were able to open the door."

"He's resourceful like that," his owner provides helpfully. "He sometimes slips out of my apartment when I forget to lock it and ends up in front of your door."

"Seriously?" she laughs, crouching down to scratch behind the dog's ears.

"Yup, seems like he just can't stay away from you," Oliver muses. "Can't really blame him for that," he adds with a wink he knows full well that it will turn her into a gooey puddle of hormones. That jerk. That beautiful, charming, wonderful jerk.

"So, breakfast?" she coughs, awkwardly changing the subject.

He smiles down at her indulgently, offering his hand to pull her back to a standing position. "Got bacon, eggs, pancakes, freshly pressed orange juice and, of course, a scone from that little bakery you love."

"And now _you_ are forgiven for dragging me out of my bed at this ungodly hour," she says with a content smile, boosting herself into one of the bar stools at her kitchen island where Oliver has already spread out all of their breakfast.

"You're a god among men, Oliver," she groans between bites while munching on some bacon.

"Glad you think so," he quips back. "Not just in the kitchen, by the way."

"You're also incorrigible," she adds with an exaggerated eye roll. "How was the musical?"

"Every bit as amazing as everyone said it would be. Still super bummed that you didn't come with us, though." Is he pouting? Oliver Queen is totally pouting at her right now.

"I told you, I'm still getting the company back on track. Someone leaked the news about the hacker attack and now I'm spending hours and hours on reassuring my clients that their systems are safe and convince them to stick with us because we're still the best. All that ass kissing is exhausting," she sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. "Did Thea stay in New York?"

"Yeah, she's meeting some friends and will be back in time for my birthday."

"Oh, of course," Felicity exclaims, "your birthday is next Saturday, isn't it?"

"And how would _you_ know that?" he asks with raised eyebrows and a giddy smile.

Aaaand she got caught fangirling again. Great.

"Because... I… know stuff about the people in my life." Nope, that was weak. They'd never talked about their birthdays before. "And all the gossip magazines are going crazy, trying to figure out how Oliver Queen will celebrate the milestone that is his 30th birthday."

He grimaces. "I was just getting used to the peace and quiet." His brows draw together in contemplation. "Well, as peaceful and quiet things can be during a promotional period. But at least the paparazzi aren't as bad as they used to be. I guess scandal-free Oliver Queen doesn't quite hold the same appeal that 'Ollie' did."

"I'll take Oliver Queen over 'Ollie' any day," she assures him with a soft squeeze of her fingers on his forearm. "Everybody should just leave you alone and let you live your life without dozens of camera lenses being pointed at you all the time, just waiting for you to do something that they can spin into a story."

He chuckles softly, his hand coming to rest on top of hers, sending a wave of electricity through her body. Will he ever stop having this kind of effect on her?

"Well, I wish everybody would see it that way, but sadly, that's not the case. It's one of the downsides of doing what I love. And the worst thing is that in a way this is my own doing, you know?"

"How so?" Why would he think that?

"In the beginning, I _loved_ the media attention. I mean, I grew up with a certain degree of public scrutiny because of my family name and Queen Consolidated, but that was nothing compared to being a young, successful actor in Hollywood. I got paid money to appear at parties, designers basically threw their clothes at me to wear at premieres and award shows, and talk show hosts were trampling over each other to get me to be on their show. I was living the dream," he tells her, his smile turning somber.

"For years, I sought after that attention. It was a win-win, really. I got to promote whatever movie I was doing and, even more so, I promoted myself, letting cameras follow me all the time and sharing private pictures on social media, and giving interviews left and right. While it may be seen as an integral part of the job nowadays to share all these private moments with the world, it really shouldn't be."

"Because it distracts from your actual work in the movies."

"That's definitely part of it. Your public image changes the way people, critics and fans alike, see you in your different roles. Like so many other things in life, the way you present yourself to the public and interact with people, is a double-edged sword."

She hums, contemplating if she should push harder or leave it at that. It's clear that this is not his favorite topic to talk about, but he also hasn't given her any indication that he wants to stop, so she presses on, "And you think because you once embraced all the publicity now you're stuck with it?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "You're almost annoyingly perceptive."

She smiles warmly at him and shrugs. "That's what you get for being friends with a genius."

To her delight, he huffs out a genuine laugh amidst all the seriousness of their talk. "I wouldn't want to have it any other way." He sobers a little before continuing, "To answer your question: yes, absolutely. Now that I've lived like that for more than ten years, exposing myself like I have, everybody expects me to continue what I've done. They all expect those private photos, frequent outings in restaurants and clubs, affairs with my co-stars… all of it. Everybody expects me to be okay with the complete and constant invasion of privacy. Nobody cares that I don't want to live that life anymore. I just wanna do my job, do what I love, and then go home or go out with friends without a dozen paparazzi following and harassing me and people around me."

"Did your parents ever give you any advice on how to handle the attention? I mean, you said that they experienced it on a different scale, but maybe what works for them could also work for you if you adapt the principle to your situation?" she suggests.

Oliver snorts loudly. "Yeah, no, I haven't really talked to my parents since I told them that I got my first role. They cut me off completely back then, thinking that by taking away my trust fund and family they could shock me into saying no to the role. Didn't work."

Her mouth falls open at this new bit of information. "Your parents didn't support you? They cut you off? But why would they do that?" How could anyone do that to their son? So yeah, she's met Robert and Moira Queen a few times and every time they were stone cold business people, but she would've never guessed that they'd be so cold and uncaring towards their own son.

"All my life they had a master plan for me: take over QC. When I crushed their dreams by telling them about the movie, they were disappointed and maybe a bit embarrassed? I don't think they believed I could make it and that I'd come crawling back to them after I failed or ran out of money."

Felicity's brain is going a mile a minute, trying to process everything she's hearing, but still not quite able to keep up. "Did they not know that you wanted to act? That that was something you wanted to pursue rather than going into business?"

"To be fair, _I_ didn't even know that acting was something I wanted to do. I was never part of drama club or any of that in school. The whole thing was just meant to be a joke. Tommy dared me to skip school and take his father's jet to L.A. with him one day during our senior year and when we got there we ended up needling each other into auditioning for some indie movie. I got the part right then and there, my parents kicked me out when I told them, and a year later I had an Oscar nomination for that same role. So, basically, I just stumbled into the whole acting thing," he shrugs.

"Wow," she breathes out. "I actually don't know what to say."

"I usually don't tell people about this."

"I'm honored that you trust me with this, Oliver," she squeezes his hand, only now realizing that sometime during their talk their hands had gravitated toward each other, looking for that silent support. "I can't believe your parents cut you off and out of their life like that."

"Like I said, I think they tried to shock me into giving up, thinking I wouldn't be able to live without their support. I probably wouldn't have without Tommy's help. He gave me access to his trust fund, so that I could go get a small apartment in L.A., since the movie didn't pay very much. Without his financial and emotional support over the first few years I would've probably given up. That's why I feel so indebted to him. I mean, I paid him back every last cent as soon as I was getting better paying roles, but still, his friendship and encouragement to follow my newfound dream always came without a price and that was even more important than any amount of money ever could be."

"Ah, that explains your initial patience with his behavior when I first met him. And even though it's very commendable of him to stick up for you when you really needed him, I still think he's an ass."

"Yeah," he huffs out, letting his thumb run over the back of her hand. "We both went our separate ways at some point. Thea pointed out some things last week that got me thinking about my friendship with him and made me realize that I need to do something. Make a decision. Clear the air and start over or let go of whatever I'm holding onto in the past and end it once and for all."

"Well, if you want my two cents on the topic, it sounds like you drifted apart for some reason. Different life styles, different influences, different experiences, they all change who we are, and when you don't share these things in a friendship it can become hard to understand why the other person is the way they are. And then you might end up asking yourself why it is that your friend doesn't confide in you anymore. Lack of trust? Lack of interest in keeping the friendship alive?"

She sighs, "From what I've heard and witnessed it looks like you two need to talk to each other and get to know the men you are today instead of holding onto the image you have of the other from ten or even five years ago. If you really want to save your friendship, you gotta let him in on what you're thinking, just as much as he needs to do the same for you."

"What if I'm not ready to tell him?" he whispers, voice laden with emotion, telling her silently and yet in no uncertain terms that he's in fact not ready to share the story behind his change.

"That's okay," she tells him. "But maybe it would already send him the right signal if you told him just that. Let him know that you want to work on your friendship even though you're not ready to share that story with him. If he's the best friend you still hope he is, he'll understand that and give you the time and space you need until you're ready."

He takes in her words, a little crease forming on his forehead, before he nods slowly. "Yeah, I might just do that. Thank you for the advice."

She smiles brightly at him, glad that her unsolicited advice wasn't completely unwelcome.

After they eat in silence for a while, she thinks back to the reason they even started talking about his family and Tommy. His upcoming birthday.

"So how are you going to spend your big day?" she asks before taking another sip of her coffee.

"Uh, well, Thea actually told me last night that my parents were inviting me over to dinner to celebrate," he says slowly, forehead scrunched together in thought.

"Oh?" is all Felicity can come up with in response to this unexpected news, especially after just hearing about their strained relationship.

"Yeah, Thea's super excited about it because it's the first time that they've tried to reach out in years," he ponders. "I mean, I've seen them a handful of times over the years, basically whenever Thea had something important going on, but we never got past the 'hello, how are you' and even that was void of any real interest. On both sides. So I really don't know what to make of this invitation now. And I can't help but wonder if they've heard about me taking a break from acting and think now is the time to try and get me back on track to still fulfill their vision of me taking over the company."

"But you're considering to accept their invitation," she surmises.

He shrugs a little helplessly. "I guess? I don't… I feel like I'd probably regret not taking the chance. What if this is the turning point? What if this is them finally accepting who I am? What if they extend this olive branch and I ignore it because I'm still holding a grudge from over ten years ago?"

Even after all these years he still seeks his parents' approval in a way, she muses, keeping that heart-breaking thought to herself for now.

"I wish I could give you some valuable insight into a perfect family life, but sadly I'm lacking that particular experience," she reminds him of the time a few weeks ago when she'd told him a little about her family. About how her dad had left when she was young, and how her mom had struggled to keep them afloat with three jobs, barely ever spending any time with her daughter. "I guess you should just do what feels right."

He nods, swallowing heavily before saying, "I think I wanna go and see… I don't know. Who they are, maybe? See if this is all just a calculated move to serve their own agenda or if it's a genuine attempt to be a family again."

"I'm sure they'll be happy to get to know the person you've grown up to be," she offers her support of his decision, trying not to think of all the ways he could get hurt. "You know you always got my support."

"Yeah, actually, about that," he starts coyly. "Do you… I mean… would you come with me?"

Say what now?

She's pretty sure her jaw hits the floor. "You want me to go to your family birthday dinner?"

"Yes?" he replies even though he sounds very unsure of himself. "Before I got the invitation I figured I'd spend my birthday with you and Thea," he admits quietly. "And now that I'm going to this dinner I think I could really use your moral support. Or, ya know, if everything goes to shit, a drinking buddy I can vent to."

"Oh, Oliver, I don't think that's the best idea," she sighs, her heart breaking when she sees his hopeful smile fall off his lips. "It's just that," she hurries to explain, "your parents aren't exactly my biggest fans. We had some business dealings when I first got to Starling a few years back and, long story short, we didn't part ways on an amicable note. Bringing me to what is supposed to be a reconciliatory dinner would probably just be like adding fuel to the fire."

"Right, uh, I didn't know that you knew them," he frowns, trying to piece together a puzzle that he doesn't have all the pieces for.

"I don't," she clarifies. "I had a few meetings with them where we talked about a possible partnership. Ultimately, I decided against it because I wasn't satisfied with the terms in their contracts, but they wouldn't budge on anything. As a result, they were pissed off because an up and coming entrepreneur dared to say no to them, so they went to other big companies in the city and told them not to work with me, making up stories about how I'd tried to rip them off or something. Basically, they made my first year in the city absolute hell because I had to literally get down on my knees and beg people to give me a chance."

"They did _what_?" he asks, voice dangerously low. "They can shove their fucking dinner up their-"

"Oliver," she tries to placate him. "It's… fine. That's the business world for you. I feel like I won in the end, so it's all good."

"What happened?" he prompts, his body only relaxing marginally.

"Eventually, I managed to convince the other companies to come on as my clients, leaving QC as the only big player in the city without the best possible IT support and the best and most secure products on the market. When your dad approached me again with another offer last year, I told him that I still wasn't interested. He yelled at me for five minutes straight and then stormed out of my office. I guess he really doesn't like to be told no."

Oliver stares at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "Felicity Smoak, you are _remarkable_."

She tilts her head to the side with a smile. "Thanks for remarking on it." She waits a beat before continuing, "But that's essentially why I'm probably not a welcome guest at your dinner."

"Is it selfish of me to still want you to come?" he questions with an almost desperate smile, his thumb rubbing against his index finger in that nervous tic of his.

Oh god, don't say it, Smoak, don't fucking say it.

"I'll go with you if you really want me to."

And there you said it. Great job.

"Really?" he whispers hopefully.

"Yes," she sighs. "I'll come with you and be your moral support, but only if you promise to give me that massage you still owe me afterwards"

"I'll even throw in a big bowl of my mousse au chocolat that you love so much," he breathes out, with a mixture of relief and excitement in his voice. "Thank you, Felicity. You're the absolute best."

She just smiles weakly at him, completely powerless against his genuinely happy ear-to-ear grin.

It's just dinner, she tells herself. What can possibly go wrong?

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	8. Chapter 8

_"Is it selfish of me to still want you to come?" he questions with an almost desperate smile, his thumb rubbing against his index finger in that nervous tic of his._

_Oh god, don't say it, Smoak, don't fucking say it._

_"I'll go with you if you really want me to."_

_And there you said it. Great job._

_"Really?" he whispers hopefully._

_"Yes," she sighs. "I'll come with you and be your moral support, but only if you promise to give methat massage you still owe me afterwards"_

_"I'll even throw in a big bowl of my mousse au chocolat that you love so much," he breathes out, with a mixture of relief and excitement in his voice. "Thank you, Felicity. You're the absolute best."_

_She just smiles weakly at him, completely powerless against his genuinely happy ear-to-ear grin._

_It's just dinner, she tells herself. What can possibly go wrong?_

 

 

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

 

This is a bad idea.

Actually, this might be the worst idea she’s ever had.

Nope, wait! There was the whole falling for Cooper thing. And the Goth thing. And… yeah okay, this isn’t the worst idea she’s ever had. But definitely Top 5!

But it’s still a really fucking bad idea.

“You okay?” Oliver asks beside her, picking up on her wariness.

No, I’m not okay, her insides scream, her brain frantically searching for a believable excuse that’ll get her out of this situation.

She only manages a jerky nod.

His big hand enters her peripheral vision, palm turned up, a silent offer of solidarity.

In a move that has become so familiar over the last few weeks, she puts her shaking hand into his, letting the instant feeling of safety wash over her. The simple touch doesn’t magically let her anxiety disappear, but it definitely soothes her nerves just a little bit.

Oliver clears his throat, struggling to get the words out that he clearly doesn’t want to say, “I can tell the driver to turn around and drop you off at home.”

It’s sweet that he offers her the out again (for the third time tonight), but at the same time she can hear it in his voice and feel it in his hesitance that he doesn’t really mean it. He wants her there tonight: by his side when he faces his parents for the first time in years.

She’s still not entirely sure if she knows what to think about the whole situation.

Surely, it should tell her that their friendship is becoming even more meaningful. That she’s important to him, and that he trusts her and wants to introduce her to other parts of his life. Just thinking about it makes her feel all tingly on the inside.

But while those reasons might be part of why Oliver asked her to come to his birthday dinner with him, she can’t help but feel like she’ll also be a very welcome distraction. A human shield from all the parental scrutiny that he’s certain to face in a few minutes.

Good god, she should’ve just said no.

She could be lounging on her couch right now with a glass of Cabernet and her two best friends Ben and Jerry.

But no! No, she had to go and succumb to Oliver Queen’s stupid puppy dog eyes and say yes when he’d basically begged her to come to the dinner with him.

Damn her ovaries for being so damn weak.

It’s just a quiet dinner, she tells herself in the most reassuring voice.

It’ll just be the Queens and her. Maybe Tommy if she’s really unlucky. Nothing major to worry about. She can totally handle the condescending remarks and lingering animosity from the arguably most influential family in Starling City for one night.

For Oliver.

Plus, he’d promised her that the food and wine would be amazing and well worth facing his parents. And if that didn’t sell her, there was also the promise of a massage and entire bowl of home-made mousse au chocolat at home later.

“Felicity?”

She breathes out slowly, gathering her strength. “I’m okay,” she answers quietly, her voice wobbling so much that she wouldn’t believe her own words.

“Hey,” he mumbles and tugs on her hand to get her to look up. “I’m nervous, too. We’ll do this together.”

She studies him for a few seconds, taking in his gorgeous blue eyes that shine back at her with so much hope. “I know it’s stupid,” she sighs, “but over the past week my brain thought it’d be fun to replay all the not so pleasant encounters I’ve had with your parents ever since our business talks stopped. And let me tell you, none of them were fun. Your mom is the queen of passive aggressive remarks. Pun intended.”

He chuckles lightly. “See, that’s exactly how you’ll get through tonight with me. Just be your amazing self.”

“Well, incidentally, your parents hate that person,” she shoots back, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach at the compliment.

“I honestly don’t think that’s the case,” he replies, prompting her eyebrows to fly up in surprise. “They might have disliked you in the beginning because you shocked them with your refusal, but now, after having time to get some perspective, I think they can respect your decision.”

If only.

“We’ll see in a few minutes, I guess,” she says and presses her lips into a thin line, not even a tiny bit convinced that the Queens will do anything but hate her.

But it doesn’t really matter now, because they’ve just pulled up to the imposing entrance of the Queen Mansion. No going back now.

She takes another steadying breath, getting ready to exit the car through the door that their driver just opened for her, when she feels Oliver’s grip tighten on her hand, holding her back.

“Felicity.”

She swallows and turns around. “Yeah?”

“I know you don’t really wanna be here tonight, but… it means so much to me that you are. I couldn’t do this without you.” His voice drops to a barely there whisper when he continues, “I know it was selfish of me to ask you to come, especially after hearing about your troubled history with my parents, but I just couldn't not ask you. Over the past few months you've become my closest friend. My _best_ friend. You make everything in my life better and I just couldn't imagine anyone else by my side to go through this tonight. I hope you can forgive me for my selfish request and let us make the best of an unfortunate situation.”

Early on in their friendship, Felicity learned to read Oliver's body language, to decipher his voice and tone, analyze his facial expressions. To her, he's an open book. Maybe that's one of the reasons why she trusts him so much, because she'll always know when he's not being truthful or upfront with her. So far, he hasn't lied to her. There may still be things from his past that they haven't talked about, but he's never straight out lied to her.

Every fiber of his being, every little nuance in his body language, every slightest quiver in his voice is telling her that he's being absolutely one hundred percent honest with her. He really thinks of her as his best friend, really wants, nay, _needs_ her there with him tonight.

Spurred on by his trust in her she squeezes his hand with real confidence for the first time that night, even managing an honest smile. “Let's do this.”

 

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

 

 

“Oliver, my dear boy, happy birthday,” Moira says in a tone that is so sickly sweet that it has the potential of giving everybody around her a cavity or two.

The Queen matriarch accepts Oliver’s greeting kiss to the cheek before turning an icy glare to Felicity. “Miss Smoak,” she begins, and how in the world is it possible to pack so much disdain into two syllables? “I don’t recall putting you on the guest list for my son’s birthday party. Will you find the door by yourself or should I let security escort you off the premises?”

Bitch!

“Mother!” Oliver hisses before the blonde can even think of a witty rebuttal. “Felicity is here because I asked her to come to what I was led to believe was a quiet family dinner and not one of your cocktail parties with two hundred guests.” He says it all with a smile on his lips that is completely betraying his terse and hushed voice.

Felicity’s confused by the weird juxtaposition for a moment before a quick glance around tells her that there are quite a few eyes on the three of them and Oliver’s trying to keep up appearances.

Oh, how she hates this pretentious world of the idle rich. Everybody’s just waiting for the next scandal to gossip about.

Moira puts on a similarly fake smile and turns her focus to her son. “And how did you come to the immensely unfortunate displeasure of meeting Miss Smoak? I can’t even imagine where you would have the opportunity to cross paths with such a spineless bottom-feeder. She’s quite beneath you, don’t you think?”

“That’s enough, Mother,” Oliver interjects, fake smiling slipping from his lips. “She’s my friend and was gracious enough to accompany me to a dinner with you guys despite how you’ve treated her in the past.”

His mother scoffs, “Oh, I’d love to hear what lies she’s been feeding you about us. I’m sure they’re quite colorful.”

“No,” Felicity finally finds her voice, “I actually just stuck to the truth. I’d say your actions were already colorful enough. No need for me to add any more drama to that.”

Moira narrows her eyes at her, clearly displeased that she once again has the audacity to speak her own mind.

“So tell me, son, is she the same ‘play thing’ of yours that I’ve heard Tommy complain about? You used to trust your best friend’s opinion on new people in your life. Maybe it’s time you got back to that.”

Play thing? Really?

She hears Oliver take a deep breath beside her, reigning in his emotions. “Tell you what, mother,” he says with a clenched jaw. “I’ll give you two choices. Number one is that you stop disrespecting my friend and start treating her like the incredible person that she is and we’ll go on with this evening according to your plans and forget the last ten minutes ever happened. Number two is that Felicity and I walk out of here right now and leave you with the rest of your guests to explain why your son didn’t bother to stick around for his own party. Fair warning though, this will be the last time you’ll see me if you choose that option.”

Felicity’s heart aches at hearing his cold voice directed at the woman who gave birth to him. She knows that there are other factors in play here, a lifetime of familial problems and disagreements, but she can’t help but feel guilty. Despite everything in the Queens’ past, _she_ is the catalyst for Oliver’s ultimatum in that moment.

She’s about to offer to leave the party -that wasn’t even supposed to be a goddamn party but just a quiet dinner- when she feels a hand grasp her own, squeezing it shortly.

With rapidly blinking eyes she realizes that it’s Moira’s long cold fingers around hers. “Welcome to our home, Miss Smoak. I hope you enjoy your evening,” she says with the fakest smile of the evening yet and saunters off.

Felicity gapes after the retreating figure, completely baffled by the turn of events. No, of course, there wasn’t any real sentiment behind the older woman’s words, but it was more than she could’ve ever imagined to hear.

“I’ll call the driver to take you home if you want to leave,” Oliver offers quietly, grabbing her hand and tugging her away from the foyer and the prying eyes of bystanders. “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

“Don’t bother,” she assures him quickly. “I’ll just work under the assumption that the worst is behind me. The night can’t really get worse than what your mother just said, can it?”

He chuckles humorlessly. “Don’t jinx it.”

She just smiles in response for a second, before turning serious. “Thanks for defending me.”

“I wish I didn’t have to,” he replies, his tone a mixture of sadness and shame. “No matter what happened between you in the business world, she was way out of line and should’ve never said any of the things she said just now. I’m sorry that she-“

“Hey,” she stops him abruptly, cupping his cheek with her palm while squeezing his hand with her free one. “You don’t have to apologize on her behalf. _Her_ words and actions are not your fault or your responsibility.”

He looks like he wants to protest, but after she runs her thumb over his cheek he sighs deeply and nods. “Can I apologize for dragging you out here for a simple dinner and instead being faced with two hundred plus people you probably don’t know?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Did you _know_ that it’d be something more than dinner with your family?” she asks, knowing the answer before he even opens his mouth. No, he didn’t know.

The moment they’d set foot in the castle-like house that he grew up in, they’d known something wasn’t quite right. Music and a multitude of voices had wafted over to the foyer where they’d been greeted by house staff that had swiftly taken away their coats. They’d barely been in the house for twenty seconds when the doors opened again, revealing a middle-aged couple dressed to the nines, exuberantly congratulating a perplexed Oliver on his birthday and thanking him for the invitation.

“Please tell me what you said to mom that made her look like she just bit into a lemon,” Thea quips, suddenly popping up next to them out of seemingly nowhere. “I wanna master that skill.”

Felicity chuckles and lets go off Oliver’s cheek. “Just say that you’re friends with me and it’ll do the trick,” she replies dryly, earning herself raised eyebrows from the Queen siblings. “What? It’s true.”

“Felicity,” Oliver starts, guilty eyes pleading with her.

“Oliver, I swear if you offer to call the driver one more time, I _will_ take you up on it,” she cuts him off before he can voice that tempting offer again. “So don’t. I love that you care so much and I really appreciate that you keep giving me an out, but you need to stop. This is my life and my choice.” He looks like he wants to protest, so she steps back up to him and cups his face with both hands. “I could’ve said no, but I _chose_ to come here with you, I _chose_ to be here to support you, and now I _choose_ to stay. If at any given point tonight I feel uncomfortable or like I can’t take it anymore, I _will_ tell you and you can take me home. Okay?”

He brings up slightly trembling hands to cover hers, managing a genuine smile. “Have I ever told you how remarkable you are?”

She grins happily, relieved to see that she finally got through to him. “You have, but I’m glad you still think so.”

“Always,” he whispers back, stealing her breath for a second with his raspy, emotionally charged voice.

“Gahhh,” Thea makes a gagging noise beside them, destroying the moment. “You two are so fucking married, it makes me want to puke rainbows. Come find me at the bar if you ever manage to stop making googly eyes at each other.”

Felicity quickly drops her hands and takes a step back, pursing her lips while looking after the younger brunette in silent contemplation. They didn’t just make googly eyes at each other, did they? She was just reassuring her friend, nothing more.

Wait, who is she even trying to convince right now?

Oliver clears his throat awkwardly. “So, uh… should we go inside?”

“Yes,” she exclaims a little too eagerly, suddenly overtaken by nerves. Why did Thea’s comment get to her so much?

Maybe because you have a really fucking big crush on her brother and she just called you two married, a little voice inside her head tells her. “I could go for a glass of wine… or five.”

 

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

 

She never has a _really_ good time at these kinds of events where Starling City’s elite comes together for whatever cause they’re supporting that week. Tonight, it’s not a charity that brings the city’s most powerful people together –even though it has been encouraged to make donations instead of giving gifts. No, tonight everybody has come together to celebrate Oliver Queen’s 30 th  birthday.

The atmosphere in the Queen mansion is surprisingly nice. She’s not quite sure what she expected. Nope, not true. She expected a cold gray-ish castle and an awkward silent dinner and not a freaking surprise cocktail party in honor of Oliver’s birthday with more than two hundred people.

People are chattering all about in little groups, there’s a string quartet playing in one corner and even some people dancing to the soothing music. She has no doubt though that this easy atmosphere has everything to do with the free-flowing alcohol from the open bar.

That’s exactly where she is right now, getting some well-deserved glass of wine after making the rounds with Oliver. At first, she was surprised to see that she actually knows most of the people that are here. But then she soon realized that it’s just the usual mixture of business men and women, politicians, socialites and philanthropists. She’s seen all these people a hundred times since she arrived in Starling a few years ago. Quite a few of them have since become her clients, despite the Queens' valiant effort to run her out of town.

Her eyes lock onto Oliver's well-defined body who's currently standing by his mother's side, talking to the Bowens. That's one conversation she's very glad not to be a part of.

If there's one person that's even more obnoxiously self-centered than Clarice Bowen it's her son Carter. That guy just doesn't seem to know the meaning of the word no. Self-important Neanderthal.

"Love the way you're shooting daggers at Bowen," a deep voice chimes from next to her, startling her out of her musings. “That jerk totally deserves to become a mental pin cushion.”

Whirling around in shock, she's faced with none other than Gotham's very own playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne.

“Mr. Wayne,” she breathes out. “Oh god, did I say any of that out loud?”

The billionaire gives her an enigmatic smile and shakes his head. “You really didn't have to verbalize anything, Ms. Smoak. Your facial expressions said it all loud and clear.”

Oh great.

Wait what?

“You know who I am?”

Deep breaths in and out, Smoak.

He chuckles lightly. “Of course, I know who you are, Ms. Smoak. I'd be the worst business man in the country if I didn't know of you. You're an impressive woman.”

“Right,” she wheezes out, completely failing at staying cool in the billionaire's presence. But holy fuck, can you blame her? Bruce motherfucking Wayne has heard of her. And he called her impressive.

“I've been meaning to talk to you for quite some time now actually,” Wayne continues, undeterred by her mostly silent freak out. “I'd like for you to do a complete overhaul of WE's systems. Ever since you've been digging your claws into virtually all of our competitors' systems, we've fallen behind substantially and it's about time that changed again. I don't like not being first.”

“You want me to work for you?”

Would it look weird if she pinched herself to make sure this not a dream?

He shakes his head vehemently. “I want to work _with_ you, Felicity. The fact that you took the opportunity to move to the West Coast a few years back when you were still conquering the East Coast was strategically speaking one of the smartest business decisions I've witnessed in the past decade. You're a tech whiz _and_ you have a real business sense that even some of my more seasoned CEO colleagues could learn a thing or two from. I'd be a fool if I didn't try to get you to work with me. Imagine what the two of us could do in Gotham. Together we'd be unstoppable.”

“You forget that her life is here, Bruce,” Oliver bursts in on the conversation out of nowhere, sidling up next to her. And if he's standing much closer to her than usually -close enough, in fact, that their arms are brushing against each other- then that's purely a coincidence, right?

“Birthday boy,” Bruce says slowly, a slightly annoyed tilt to his voice at being interrupted. “ _You_ seem to have forgotten that it wouldn't be the first time that she started over on a different coast. Or do you doubt that she could do it again?”

Woah, hold your horses there, mister.

She tries and fails not to startle when Oliver's hand suddenly slips around her waist, pulling her into his side. What the...?

When she looks up at him, her surprised look is met by one of pure adoration and certainty. “Oh, I have no doubts that she _could_ do it. Felicity can do just about anything she sets her mind to. She's remarkable like that.”

“That might be the first thing we've ever agreed on, Queen,” Bruce half jokes, glaring down at where his big hand is curled around her waist. Oliver on his part tightens his grip a little bit.

Men.

Making everything into a pissing contest.

Enough is enough, she thinks and says, “How about I'll tell my assistant to set up a meeting with you so we can talk about the possibility of cooperating. I can put together a team of my most promising staff members that could conduct a project of the magnitude that you're proposing.”

Wayne frowns at that, clearly expecting a different answer. “You wouldn't want to be an active part of it?”

Business people and their inability to accept that life doesn't always go according to their wishes.

“As much as I appreciate the trust you put in me and as flattering as your proposal is, I simply don't have the time for a project like that right now. I have plenty of new and potential clients here in Starling that require my attention and I have a few promising R&D projects that I'm personally invested in. It wouldn't be fair to you and your company -or mine for that matter- to take on more than I can handle.”

She holds her breath in anxious anticipation while Bruce regards her intently before he finally nods his head slowly. “I appreciate your honesty and candor, Felicity. Other CEOs wouldn't have been this forthright and would've only thought about the potential profit they could generate through a deal like that. Please, have your assistant set up the meeting, so we can explore what other options we have to work together.”

“I will,” she smiles at him, stretching out her hand for him to shake. “And I do look forward to working with you in the future. We just have to find the right time and project.”

With a glance at Oliver, the other business man softly grabs her hand and presses quick kiss to the back, eliciting an almost inaudible growl from Oliver.

“I'd be honored if you saved me a dance for later, Felicity,” he says smoothly and leaves quickly to mingle with some passing politicians before she can even think about giving him an answer.

“Speaking of,” Oliver fills the sudden silence and takes a step back just so he can hold out both his hands for her to take. “Would you do me the honor and share a birthday dance with me?”

For a man who was confident and sure-as-hell just a few seconds ago, he suddenly looks a little nervous. Almost like he expects her to say no. Like that'll ever happen.

She lays her hands in his and pulls him towards the open space that is being used as a dance floor. “I'd love to.”

Of course this is one of those moments in life when theory is so much simpler than reality. In theory it shouldn't affect her all that much to assume the correct dance position, nestled softly in Oliver's arms. But in reality she has to use every ounce of willpower to keep her body from completely melting into his and seeking out his comforting warmth. Nothing else in the world matters once his hands land on her waist. Everything and everyone around them just melts away until they are the only two people left in the world.

Softly, Oliver sways them to the muted strands of music that are floating effortlessly around them. With only a second's hesitation Felicity seizes the moment and nestles her cheek against his broad chest, making their moment even more intimate and meaningful.

It only lasts for a minute, though, before none other than Moira Queen rudely bursts their bubble of pure bliss and contentment.

“Oliver, there you are. I've been looking for you.” Her voice is low, clearly trying to avoid attracting any attention from the numerous bystanders. “You should be making the rounds and talking with your guests instead of spending all your time with... _her_.”

He doesn't even bother stopping the soft swaying of his hips when he answers, “I already made the rounds and talked with everybody. Plus, Felicity is my guest, too, so it only makes sense for me to spend time with her.”

Moira throws her a look that's caught somewhere between disgusted and completely disinterested. “That may be true, but another guest just arrived that your father and I have wanted to introduce you to.”

Felicity can feel his chest rise and fall with a deep, annoyed breath of air before Oliver relents and pulls away from her, one of his hands finding hers, linking their fingers together.

“Fine, but this is the last one before we call it a night," he decides in a no nonsense voice. "Despite being tricked into attending this party under false pretenses, I put in my time and glad-handed everyone in this house. Enough is enough. I want to actually enjoy the last hours of my birthday without two hundred people I had no intention of meeting again.”

“Oliver,” his mother hisses disapprovingly, “show some respect. It doesn't hurt you to do something for the family business once in a while. Social events like these are an important part of doing business. You'd do well to remember that.”

“Mother, for the one millionth time, I don't have any plans whatsoever to take over QC at any point in the future,” Oliver sighs, more than just a hint of annoyance seeping through.

“That's a talk for another time,” Moira brushes him off when they reach Robert who's talking to another man, both of them with their backs to their threesome. Well, at least it's a man and not a woman that the disapproving Queen parents try to not so subtle push into Oliver's arms.

“Robert, why don't you introduce Oliver to our new Cyber Security Consultant?”

Nice potshot, Moira, bringing up the position that would've belonged to Felicity if she hadn't refused to sign their contracts.

“Ah yes, Oliver, Ms. Smoak, this is Sheldon Masters, our newest addition to QC as of two weeks ago,” Robert says, clearly pleased by the idea of rubbing in the situation. “Sheldon, this is my son and his... friend,” he introduces them just as the other man turns around.

No.

No!

Not him.

Anyone but him!

She wants to scream, she wants to run, she wants to slap him right across his smug little face that still looks the exact same as six years ago. The same face and the same smile that still haunt her in her dreams sometimes.

But she does neither of those things and is completely frozen in place by an invisible force that she knows all too well when it comes to _him_ : fear. Bone-chilling, all-encompassing fear that paralyzes her body and mind.

She doesn't know how long she just stares blankly ahead, everything around her reduced to blaring white noise, but when she finally manages to will her body to comply with her brain's command to run away she ignores the surprised gasp from Moira and Oliver's worried words asking her where she's going and what's wrong.

She just needs to get away as far as possible from the man who had almost ended her life.

She needs to be far, _far_ away from him.

Far away from Cooper.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger warning? There’s a description of a past violent experience that might not sit well with some, even if it's not overly graphic.

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

It all happens so fast that he doesn't even have time to react. One second, his father is introducing them to a new QC employee, and the next, Felicity is running from the scene, looking like she's seen a ghost.

She hadn’t even stopped when he’d called after her.

It doesn't make sense.

She was fine a minute ago. Maybe not super excited about being here, but she'd assured him that she'd tell him if she started feeling uncomfortable.

Damnit, he shouldn't have pushed her to come with him. She'd been reluctant from the very beginning and he'd basically guilt-tripped her into coming with him, just because he was too big of a coward to go home alone.

But what set her off? Why now?

 _Does it matter? Just go after her, you stupid idiot,_ his brain tells him in no uncertain terms, pulling him out of his stupor in time to catch the tail end of his father's apology.

“You have to excuse her behavior, Mr. Masters, it seems like Ms. Smoak has had too much to drink.”

Bullshit.

“Oliver, darling, why don't you go check on your guest and make sure she's okay,” Moira suggests, her hand squeezing his arm lightly, her voice sounding a little apprehensive.

Wait, what?

When he meets her eyes, he's almost sure that he sees genuine worry flicker through hers for a second. Maybe even the tough as nails Moira Queen still has some little remnants of her motherly instinct hiding underneath that icy exterior. But why would she direct that concern towards a woman she apparently hates. Why now? What the fuck is going on?

He nods mutely and doesn’t bother excusing himself from the conversation, before weaving in and out of the strings of other guests that are completely unaware of what's going on.

His eyes race over all the different faces when he reaches the foyer, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of the beautiful blonde he brought here tonight.

Come on, Felicity, where are you? Where did you go?

He whirls around, panic starting to settle in his chest before his eyes suddenly, _finally_ , land on Felicity’s small figure, quickly moving through the crowd towards the grand staircase.

The closer he gets to her, the more details he can make out. Her shoulders are rising and falling rapidly, head darting around wildly as if checking that she’s not being followed.

“Felicity?” he asks cautiously as he finally catches up with her halfway up the stairs. But even his soft voice doesn't prevent her from violently flinching.

“It's just me,” he placates, stopping dead in his tracks, a few steps down from where she’s frozen in place.

She doesn't turn around, keeping her head down and her hands balled up into little fists that have her knuckles turn white.

“What do you need?” he asks, deciding to skip the rhetoric question of 'are you okay' because it's as clear as day that no, she's definitely _not_ okay.

“I don't know.” Her whisper is so low that he can barely hear it over the hum of voices drifting up from below. “I just want to get away.”

Okay, he can work with that.

“We can go to my old room. Nobody's gonna be up there.”

From his position behind her he can see her jaw working, tightening and releasing every few seconds while she mulls over his offer in silence.

“Can you turn around and look at me?”

She shakes her head vehemently, her trademark ponytail whipping around.

“Please don't shut me out, Felicity,” he whispers. “I wanna help you. You just gotta tell me how.”

When there’s no reaction from her, he slowly closes the distance between them, taking one careful step at a time.

God, what happened to his whirlwind of a friend that was so confident and sure and full of life just a few minutes ago, holding her own against his mother and Bruce Wayne. What spooked her?

In hindsight, he should’ve known better than to touch her without warning, but in that moment he doesn’t think. He can’t think. Not with this incredible woman falling apart in front of him. He just wants to help. Make her feel better.

So his instinct kicks in and tells him to touch her, ground her through their unspoken connection. Seeking out each other’s reassuring touch, be it a bone-crushing hug or the simple pressure of fingertips against trembling skin, has always had an instant, almost miraculous effect on both of them. It’s always helped to ground each other, to share the burden and to take away the pain. Always. Without fail.

Until now.

When his fingertips find her wrist in the lightest of touches, she flinches away, a horrified shriek escaping her lips and before he can even utter her name in a broken, apologetic whisper she bolts, running up the remaining stairs and disappearing from sight down one of the many corridors.

Once again, it all happens too fast and he can’t react in time.

His brain is muddled by a million questions, while he takes two steps at a time, sprinting after his friend.

Did he just catch her off guard with his touch or is she actually physically hurt? Did _he_ hurt her? No, his fingertips barely even grazed her skin. That can’t be it.

But the most prominent question is why. Why did she run off? Why is she so out of it? Why is she suddenly scared of him? Why is she running from him? Why won’t she talk?

What the fuck happened?

He spots her at the end of the hallway, quickly eating up the distance and trying to ignore his breaking heart when she recoils from his touch once more when he ushers her into his room and closes the door behind them.

She backs away immediately, eyes wide and scared. “No, let go,” she basically whimpers. “Don’t hurt me. Please.” She breaks apart on the last word, tears streaming down her cheeks, her breathing getting out of control.

“It’s just me, Felicity,” he pleads softly, holding up his hands defensively, hopefully showing her that he means no harm. "It's Oliver."

“No, no, no,” she cries over and over again between sharp breaths, looking around frantically to find a way out. The almost glazed-over look in her watery eyes gives him the impression that she doesn’t even know where they are right now.

What is he supposed to do? He can’t let her back down to the ball room. All the people down there would probably just make things worse.

“I don’t know what to do, Felicity. Tell me what you need,” he pleads. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

His offer to leave seems to set something off in her and suddenly her breathing becomes even more erratic, coming in short little puffs that don’t actually seem to do their job of providing her body with oxygen.

“I can’t… I can’t…” she tries to speak, words barely audible around the gasps for air. “Can’t breathe. I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Shit, shit, shit.

Do something, Oliver!

He takes a tentative step forward, then another when she doesn’t react, too focused on getting air into her lungs.

“Okay, I can do this,” he psychs himself up. “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but… we’ll get through this.”

And great, he’s talking to himself.

“Felicity?” he turns his attention to her, willing his body and voice to stay calm. “Just listen to my voice, okay?”

No reaction.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he mumbles. “Just breathe with me, Felicity. Focus on my voice and do what I say. In and out. In and out,” he says slowly, mimicking the dictated rhythm with exaggerated breaths.

“No, no,” she cries, “It’s too tight. I can’t breathe. Off, I want it off,” she cries, her fingers clawing at the blood red material of her cocktail dress.

“Hey, hey, stop,” he urges, while she’s desperately trying to reach the zipper at her back. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Take it off,” she screams between short puffs of air. “Take it off. Please. Please, just take it off.”

Oliver hesitates for only a second before stepping into her personal space, slowly bringing up his hands to her waist, trying not to startle her, but she’s still so occupied with trying to get out of her dress that she doesn’t seem to register his touch.

He steadies her with one firm hand on her tiny waist while the other slips around to the back, quickly finding and undoing the zipper of the restricting garment.

Were this any other situation he’d probably be more conscious of the fact that he’s about to see the woman of his dreams in just her underwear, but any excitement or nervousness is quelled by his worry.

In lightning speed Felicity manages to slip off the dress, letting it carelessly pool around her bare feet, while she’s sucking in big gulps of air, willing her body to relax again.

His hands are hovering uselessly a few inches from her waist and he just doesn’t know what to do now that she’s finally recovering. Can he touch her? Will he startle her if he speaks? What if she starts having trouble breathing again?

She’s still panting heavily, but it’s so much better than just a few seconds ago. He’s not sure how long they stay like that: just a few inches separating them, her head facing the ground, shoulders still rising and falling quickly, while he’s just standing there like the helpless idiot that he is with his hands frozen in mid-air.

He doesn’t dare speak or move in fear of doing something wrong, so he simply resorts to waiting until she makes the first move.

Minutes later, when her respiratory rate seems almost normal, she lifts her head and warily looks around, taking in her surroundings. Her cheeks are flushed, her make-up a complete mess of sweat, tears and cosmetics running over her skin. Her entire body is covered in a thin layer of glistening sweat and she's still trembling a little bit.

He forbids himself from letting his gaze drop lower than her chin, trying to show her the respect she deserves. But God, it’s hard when a gorgeous woman is standing mere inches from you in only a few scraps of fabric.

Down, boy. So not the time or place.

Her beautiful blue eyes are starting to focus again and finally there’s a flicker of recognition instead of panic when they sweep across his face.

“Oliver?” Her voice is hoarse and sounds so unlike her, but that doesn’t matter because she’s found her way back to him.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, still unsure what to do.

She looks around again and then down her body, brow furrowing in silent question before realization dawns on her face. “Oh,” she breathes out, letting the single syllable hang in the silence of his old room.

 _Do something useful_ , his brain urges him when the quiet gets too much.

Right. Clothes. She needs clothes.

He finally wills his body to move, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it carefully around her shoulders.

She looks up at him with a shaky but grateful smile, eyes boring into his soul. “I had a panic attack?” Her words are caught somewhere between a question and a statement and he’s unsure how to answer.

God, he hates feeling this helpless.

“I… yes?” he stammers. “I don’t… was that what it was?”

She dips her head, pulling his jacket tight around her body with one hand while observing the slight tremble in her free one.

Her forehead scrunches up in a deep frown when balling her fingers into a fist doesn’t stop the shaking. “I haven’t had one of these in a while.”

He swallows hard at that. “You… you’ve had one before?”

Her eyes glaze over with a flicker of pain for a second before she nods, not giving him any further explanation.

“Can I… help? Somehow?”

She bites her bottom lip, slight blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’m just tired… and cold.” She looks like she wants to say more, ask for something, but she holds her tongue, gaze dropping to her feet.

His hands move on their own accord, only stopping when they’re about to touch her cheeks. “I’m completely out of my depth here, Felicity,” he whispers, hating how broken his voice sounds. He wants to be strong for her and not an insecure mess. “Tell me what you need. _Anything_. Just… I don’t want to do something that’ll… make you uncomfortable.”

She looks up at him with big, watery eyes, bottom lip quivering slightly. “Can you hold me?”

He chokes on his reply, resorting to a simple quick nod, before he steps a little closer, opening his arms for her. She doesn’t hesitate, melting into his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and it actually hurts a little where her nails are digging through the material of his dress shirt, but he doesn’t care because he can finally touch her again. He can finally give her the comfort she needs.

He lets his eyes slide shut, burying his nose in her hair, reveling in the moment of peace and quiet after everything that just happened.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Oliver’s not sure he’s ever felt this emotionally drained before. Seeing someone you care about have a complete meltdown is surprisingly taxing on your body. All through her panic attack, he felt completely and utterly helpless and terrified.

He couldn’t do anything about it, his voice seemingly not getting through the haze around her. He was completely useless by her side while she worked through whatever was going on in her head.

Now he’s finally doing _something_. Even if it’s not much. But at least he feels like he’s taking away some of her pain, some of her burdens, by holding her in his arms, whispering words of comfort in her ear and keeping her safe from whatever demons had threatened to swallow her whole.

After hugging her in the middle of his old bedroom for what felt like an eternity, he’d gently guided her to his bed, running to the closet that was luckily still full of his old clothes where he’d retrieved an old oversized jersey from his favorite hockey team. With her permission he’d slipped it over her head, covering her trembling body with the fabric, before gently pulling her with him into a more comfortable position under the covers.

Laying down flat on his back, he maneuvered her so that her head was resting on his chest, right above his heart, hoping that the steady beat would help calm her down. It still took a few minutes for her gut-wrenching sobs to die down to little hiccups and until her breath finally evened out completely when her body finally gave into the exhaustion.

Oliver couldn’t find it in him to sleep, though, his mind still racing with a million unanswered questions and his heart aching for the woman in his arms.

Now he lies awake with wide eyes, thinking back to earlier, trying to figure out what the hell could’ve caused her panic attack. They’d been talking to his parents and the new QC hire when she’d suddenly run off. Had her parents triggered her somehow?

They’d definitely been their usual hostile selves and certainly not warm and fuzzy when speaking with her, but not hostile enough to cause her to run off, right? Until then, she’d actually done the exact opposite of being intimidated by firmly standing her ground and openly telling them off.

But what else had happened?

His dad had only introduced them to their new Cyber Security Consultant, Sheldon something or other. Had he been the trigger? If yes, why? Do they know each other? But even if the answer to that question is also yes, what could’ve possibly happened to make her this frightened?

His wandering mind is abruptly pulled back to the here and now when Felicity startles awake in his arms, sucking in a shuddering breath, her eyes flying around wildly until they land on his surprised face.

The instant relief that visibly washes over her entire body has an odd effect on him, too. He’s relieved, yes, but also kinda proud because he’s happy that she feels safe with him and like she can let her guard down.

She sighs contently and snuggles back against his chest –cue the butterflies in his stomach- for exactly five seconds before she suddenly pushes away from him with wide eyes. “Oh my god, the party. What are you doing here? You have guests downstairs,” she babbles, sliding out from beneath the covers and giving him a glorious view of her thighs where his jersey has ridden up.

Look away, asshole.

He pointedly looks at the ceiling and clears his throat. “It’s fine, Felicity. I’m sure my mom has come up with a good excuse for why I’m not there.”

“Still,” she insists, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to get up, “you should go down there. It’s still your birthday, after all, and you should enjoy it and not have to deal with my meltdown.”

“Fe-lic-ity,” he drawls out, putting his hand on hers to stop her from running away. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

Her shoulders sag and he can practically hear the wheels churning in her head.

Come on, Felicity, don’t shut me out.

“I…” she trails off and takes a breath. “I think I should go home.”

“Okay, I’ll call the driver and we’ll go home,” he amends and quickly gets out on his side of the bed and moves around to stand in front of her, offering his hands to help her up.

She stares at them for a good few seconds and shakes her head. “You should stay here, spend time with your family.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Why are you shutting me out?”

“I’m not,” she snaps, her head flying up, mask of indifference firmly in place as she pushes past him towards her discarded dress. “Just stating the obvious. You have guests that you should go back to.”

“You keep saying that when you know full well that they’re not really my guests. They’re my mother’s guests for _her_ stupid party,” he growls back, getting fed up by her suddenly cold attitude. Not even an hour ago she was crying uncontrollably against his chest and seeking comfort in him and now she suddenly can’t get away fast enough? What the hell?

She ignores his argument pointedly and clutches her red dress to her chest, looking just as lost as he feels right now.

“Where can I change?”

He stalks over to her, feeling his control slip. “God damnit, Felicity, I’m trying to help you. Stop shutting me out!”

Wrong thing to do.

She flinches violently, backing away from him with wide, watery eyes until her back hits the wall and she can’t go any further.

And the Biggest Dickhead of the Year Award goes to… him.

After her earlier reaction to his touch he really should’ve known better than to snap at her. He’s such an idiot.

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” he apologizes quickly, making sure to approach her slowly. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just… I want to help you. And I don’t know how.” He takes a deep breath, locking his eyes with hers. “Don’t worry about anyone else. I don’t care about my birthday or my parents or the people they invited. I care about _you,_ Felicity.”

Her breath stutters and for the first time in the last hour he takes that as a good sign.

“I don’t want you to be alone tonight, so… if you’ll have me, I’d like to be there for you,” he whispers, stretching out his hands once more in a silent offer.

She doesn’t hesitate this time, holding the dress to her chest with one hand while placing the other in his waiting one. “Let’s go home.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

After an eerily quiet ride home that Felicity spent furiously tapping away at her phone, he ushers her silently out of the lift and towards his apartment. He didn’t actually ask her if she wanted to go to his place, but she also hasn’t made any attempts of stopping him, so he takes that as her consent.

Arcus greets them exuberantly, wagging his tail and going back and forth between them, trying to decide which one to give his attention first. He finally settles on Felicity, because of course he does, and Oliver’s playfully grumbled “traitor” elicits the first real, albeit small smile from her and he puts that moment in the win column.

Since she’d slipped back into her cocktail dress earlier, he quickly grabs her some more comfortable clothes and pours them both a generous glass of red wine and prepares a plate of mousse au chocolat while she changes into his sweatpants and a hoodie.

They settle down on his couch in a relaxed silence, sipping their wine and he quickly has to admit that he may or may not be jealous of his dog. The sneaky little bastard totally exploited his master’s goodwill and snuck up on the sofa with them, his head resting in Felicity’s lap while her fingers card through his black fur.

Despite the more relaxed atmosphere, Oliver still feels on edge. There are too many unanswered questions for him to rest easy, even if Felicity -who’s now make-up free and lounging in his baggy clothes- looks like nothing ever happened. The only difference to any other night of them chilling on the couch is that she doesn’t really smile and when she does, it barely reaches her eyes.

He wants to break the silence and get her to open up, but he doesn’t know where to start. If he pushes her too hard, she could clam up completely. She’d already been on the verge of shutting him out once, he doesn’t want to risk pushing her over the edge. Or even worse, trigger another panic attack by reminding her of what happened before she’s ready to face her demons.

So he remains quiet, sticking to observing her from a relative distance, biding his time while he tries to come up with a plan.

His silent conflict is solved when Felicity suddenly speaks up, “I’m sorry.”

Huh?

Taking in his surprised look she elaborates, “For my … gargantuan meltdown, for one.” He opens his mouth to protest, but she just prattles on, “And for being a bitch afterwards. You were trying to help me and I was… not very nice. I’m sorry.”

“There’s really nothing to apologize for, Felicity,” he assures her, taking one of her hands in his. “I wish I could’ve helped more.”

She squeezes his hand in return. “You were there,” she whispers. “The last time, I was alone and that was much scarier. Thank you for not running for the hills at the first sign of my crazy shining through,” she tries for humor, but it falls flat.

“You don’t have to turn this into a joke, Felicity,” he chides her softly. “You had a panic attack.”

She sobers quickly and nods solemnly. “Yeah.”

“Not for the first time.”

“Not for the first time,” she agrees.

“If you ever feel like talking about it or if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to come to me,” he offers her not for the first time in their friendship. “Okay?”

Tears are welling up in her eyes again, but she nods jerkily, tugging on his hand gratefully before quickly averting her focus to the plate of mousse, clearly needing a moment to process.

He gladly gives it to her, watching her eyes slide shut in a moment of pleasure when she takes a bite of the home-made dessert that he’d promised her. He knows that the term food porn doesn’t refer to this type of situation, but good god, watching Felicity eat the sugary goodness he made for her with so much gusto should be classified as a sin. Watching her lips close around the spoon, her tongue flicking out to catch every last bit from the corner over her mouth, the little mewl of approval escaping from her lips.

He’s so done for. So.Fucking.Done.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the instant effect that her little impromptu show has on him while he discretely pulls one of the big pillows into his lap, hoping that she doesn’t notice what’s happening. Talk about shitty timing.

“This is so good, Oliver,” she sighs when she finishes the plate a couple of minutes of delicious torture later.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah… uh, thanks,” he stutters, probably turning a deep shade of red when she totally catches him off guard and potentially staring at her lips. “There’s more in the fridge,” he croaks out.

She lifts an amused eyebrow, but doesn’t call him out on his frazzled answer. Thank god.

They fall back into silence once more. This must be the quietest they’ve ever been together. It’s not like they’re constantly babbling away, but usually the atmosphere between them isn’t quite as charged with everything that’s not being said. And now it’s also a little awkward because he’s eighty percent sure she caught him staring at her while she was eating. Good thing that that’s not creepy at all.

“I had a boyfriend when I was in college,” she begins out of nowhere, carefully putting the plate on the coffee table and grabbing her glass once more before leaning back against the couch cushions.

It takes Oliver’s mind a second to catch up to what she’s telling him. Is she actually opening up to him?

“His name was Cooper. We met in a class during my second year at MIT,” she continues thoughtfully. “He was two years ahead of me but this was a class that he had to repeat and I was on an accelerated curriculum, so I was kinda working ahead... which doesn’t really matter.” She groans and shakes her head, getting herself back on track. “We became friends and he invited me to join this group of hackers that he called Brother Eye. We would… test boundaries, so to speak. Trying to find ways to hack into government systems and then brag about it online. Kinda stupid and juvenile stuff, but it was fun and I was really good at it.”

She lets her fingers scratch behind Arcus’ ears who’s absolutely digging all this attention he’s getting. Oliver wants to ask her what this has to do with what happened tonight –actually, if this has anything to do with what happened tonight- but decides against it, letting her do this by her own rules.

“He was the first friend I had at MIT. Yeah, I’d already found two best friends in Cait and Iris who were both studying at Harvard, but I hadn’t really connected with anyone in my own university during my first year. So, having Brother Eye and especially Cooper was totally new and exciting for me. And then long nights spent hacking and hanging out with him led to more and suddenly we were dating.” She starts chewing on her bottom lip, a little color rising to her cheeks before she continues, “He was kinda my first everything. I was only 18 and far away from home and I thought that I was in love with him. I even ignored my friends’ warnings and let him just pull me into his hacker lifestyle and let him talk me into doing some stupid things.”

Well, this is one form of torture, Oliver thinks darkly, trying hard to ignore the flare of jealousy in his chest.

“I created this huge ‘super virus’ that could essentially be used to hack into anything and we bent the rules quite a bit while breaking into the FBI and putting famous people on the no-fly list and stupid stuff like that. It was never meant to be used to do actual damage or to hurt anyone, but then I caught Cooper using it to steal money for himself, wipe student loans, and steal classified documents from the CIA that he just published with no regard for the effect it might have. Worst of all, he made a mistake that allowed the authorities to trace the code back to me, which suddenly led to the FBI knocking on my door.”

Holy crap. He would’ve never guessed that she’d ever be involved in something like this.

“Cooper took the fall for me, telling them that he created the virus and used it to commit all those crimes. He got sentenced to twelve years in prison and I was left feeling guilty about it all, because _I_ had created it. _Now_ , I can of course see that it was his fault for abusing the power of my virus and that it was his own recklessness and greed that landed him in prison, but my 18-year-old self didn’t see it that way. So I spent months hacking into countless databases and systems until I had finally found and removed every last shred of evidence they had against him, which paved the road for him getting free,” she explains, rubbing her forehead, clearly still annoyed by her own decisions back then.

“Were you still together?” Oliver finally chimes up, wanting to hear that he dumped his sorry ass.

“For a while, yeah,” she admits, “but the time away and everything that had happened really changed him and I didn’t recognize the guy I had fallen for, so I eventually broke things off just before summer break started.”

He lets out a relieved breath, glad that she’d gotten out of that toxic relationship. “Good.”

She shifts a little in her seat and looks up with a grimace. “Yeah, we got back together a year later.”

“What? Why? He was a dickhead.”

“He really was,” Felicity says with a sigh, “but he also knew how to lay on the charm and since it wasn’t like guys were lining up to be with me I fell under his spell again. So for a while there during the summer before my senior year everything seemed perfect. I was working on software prototypes that I wanted to sell to eventually raise enough capital for my own company, I had Cooper back and it looked like he would finally be successful in getting back into MIT after they first refused to let him enroll again with his criminal record.”

“Sounds like the other shoe’s about to drop,” Oliver throws in, sensing the turning point of the story, his suspicion growing that this Cooper guy was the trigger for her panic attack tonight. Even though he doesn’t understand how or why.

“You can say that again,” she whispers, her features growing more serious. “I went home towards the end of the summer to visit my mom for her birthday. But for reasons that are kinda irrelevant right now, I went back to Boston early and I didn’t tell Cooper, thinking I could surprise him.”

“And you caught him cheating?”

She lets out an acerbic laugh. “I wish. No, I let him stay in my dorm room while his legal stuff with MIT was being sorted out, not thinking that I’d have to worry about leaving all my stuff there with him. I caught him in the middle of downloading all my prototypes.”

“Bastard,” Oliver grumbles, wishing he could give this Cooper guy a nice ass whooping or two.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I confronted him and he didn’t even bother lying. He told me that he only got back together with me so he could steal my work because he thought I owed him for going to prison. He actually said that he was entitled to the intellectual property because without him and Brother Eye I wouldn’t be as good a programmer as I was,” she scoffs. “I refused, told him to go to hell, and quickly initiated a security protocol that locked him out of my system and forced a complete reboot that would take at least 24 hours.”

Oliver can’t help, but allow himself a little, triumphant smile. That’s his Felicity. Fierce and strong and not backing down.

He freezes when tears well up in her eyes, her bottom lip quivering. “That was the first time he hit me. He threatened to kill my mother and my friends if I didn’t give the programs to him.”

He did _what_?

“Felicity,” he whispers, not a single thing coming to his mind that he could say to make the pain in her eyes go away.

She shakes her head, somehow still holding the tears at bay, soldiering through her story. “By that time my neighbors had gotten wind of the fight and called campus police and they hauled him out of my room.”

Her hand finds his on the couch and he gladly intertwines their fingers, giving her that moment of connectivity, hoping that the simple touch will help her through her harrowing memories.

After a deep breath she continues, “The rest of the night was a blur of going to the police station, giving my statement and filing for a restraining order and all that stuff. Once I had my systems back online, I sent all the evidence from the previous case to the FBI and they started a manhunt when they realized that some rookie cop had fucked up and accidently released Cooper that morning.

“I tried to find him, but he’d already managed to go underground and no matter what I’ve tried over the past six years I’ve never gotten a single lead on him.” She sounds frustrated with herself for not being able to track her asshole ex down.

“So you haven’t seen or heard from him in six years?”

It takes her a few seconds and a number of controlled breaths to answer, “I saw him once, six weeks after he disappeared.” She’s struggling with continuing and he gives her a quick tug on her fingers to let her know that he’s right there with her, ready to catch her if she falls.

“After he disappeared I threw myself completely into the search for him. I barely slept, skipped classes, completely shut out my friends. It was… a shitty time and I felt so lost and vulnerable and… I stopped living for a while because I was obsessed with finding him before he could come back and hurt me or people around me. But after four or five weeks of nothing I’d finally had this feeling of hope that he had given up and started over someplace new and had forgotten all about me and his revenge or whatever. So I finally let my guard down and started living my life again.

“I was out with some friends, having a really nice night and since it was only three blocks to my dorm I decided to walk home,” she whispers. “It all happened so fast. He came out of nowhere, dragging me into this dark alley before my brain could even begin to understand what was happening. He… he tied something around my mouth so I couldn’t scream and then…”

“Hey,” Oliver says, voice heavy with emotion, “you don’t have to put yourself through this again.”

A single tear slips down her cheek while his heart absolutely breaks for this beautiful, strong woman in front of him.

“I think I need to,” she mutters, trying so hard to get herself under control.

He nods slowly, tugging on her hand more insistently to get her to move. “C’mere,” he almost begs, needing her closer.

She doesn’t put up a fight, probably needing this as much as he does, as she climbs into his lap without a second’s hesitation, pressing herself closely into his body. Much to Arcus’ dismay apparently, because the canine quickly crawls across the new distance and puts his head back onto Felicity’s thighs, looking up at her with wide, brown eyes and giving her a pitiful whine that does the trick and charms a watery smile out of her.

Good boy, Arcus.

Oliver tightens his arms around the blonde whirlwind he’s come to call his best friend. “We got you, Felicity.”

She takes a few cleansing breaths and goes on with her heartbreaking tale, “He beat me… over and over again until I fell to the ground and then he started kicking me. And I tried to fight him off at first, to run away, to at least block some of his punches, but… I just… I couldn’t. He was too strong and he just wouldn’t let up.”

Her body starts shaking, a sob escaping from her lips and he can feel her tears seeping through his dress shirt for the second time tonight. He wants to say something to make her feel better, but his throat feels like it’s sewn shut and he can’t even get out her name.

“He kept talking while he was doing it, kept calling me names and telling me that he’d do this to my mom and to my friends and that it’d be all my fault,” she whispers brokenly. “I don’t know how long it lasted. I think I lost consciousness a few times, but I remember that he had a knife and that he _smiled_ at me when he ran it into my back,” she sobs, losing her fight against the tears. “Telling me that that’s exactly what I did to him.”

He pulls her closer, feeling absolutely helpless in the face of such an utter atrocity that no human being should ever be capable of committing.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

He’s not sure she even heard him when she soldiers on, “Then he just left me there to die in the gutter… and I was so cold and... I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream for help. I was sure I was gonna die.”

“But you didn’t,” he mumbles into her hair, pressing a quick kiss against her temple, not sure which one of them he’s trying to reassure.

“A dog walker found me because one of his dogs had gotten off his leash and ran into the alleyway I was in. I was rushed to the hospital and into surgery and had a pretty long recovery time before I could leave the hospital again. I threw myself into work and sold some of my programs and did freelance work. I invested most of that money in the stock market and used one part of it to hire John as my personal security,” she rushes through the rest of her story. “Five months after the attack, I founded SmoakSolutions. That’s probably the only good thing that came out of everything.”

Everything Caitlin, Iris and Diggle had told him suddenly makes so much more sense.

“But I thought you’d already planned to do your own thing before?”

“I had vague ideas, but nothing concrete, just a dream. But my time in recovery gave me the drive to keep going, to follow my dream and actually make it happen.”

 “You’re amazing, Felicity,” he marvels, completely in awe of the woman in his arms. He’d already been enamored with her before, impressed beyond anything by her strength and tenacity, but knowing what she’s gone through and the crucible she had to endure, makes him speechless.

She scoffs, lifting her head away from his neck so she can wipe her tears away. “Look at me. I’m a complete mess.”

“There’s no shame in having emotions,” he objects. “You went through hell and somehow you channeled all that negativity and pain into something positive. You kept fighting when it would’ve been so much easier to give up. That is absolutely admirable and something you should be proud of.”

Her mouth falls slightly open, obviously taken aback by insistent words. “Thank you, Oliver.”

He just smiles and presses another kiss to her temple, quickly getting addicted to the feeling of his lips against her soft skin and the way her eyes slide shut at the contact.

After a few moments of silence a question pops back into his head. “So what happened tonight that brought all this back?”

She stiffens noticeably in his arms and for a second he fears that she’ll shut down now, but she merely takes a steadying breath. Quickly she wipes away some of her tears, almost like she’s preparing herself for what’s to come. “The man that your parents introduced us to, Sheldon Masters?”

No! That can’t be.

“That was Cooper,” she finishes quietly.

“Oh god, we have to call the police,” he rushes out, trying to get up to reach his phone when small but insistent hands on his chest keep him in place.

“Don’t bother. He’ll be long gone,” Felicity tells him, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks and suddenly looking much more confident.

 Why the fuck is she so calm? Why isn’t she doing anything?

“We need to do _something_ ,” he insists. “He can’t just get away. Not again. What if-” he cuts himself off.

“What if he tries to hurt me again?” she finishes for him. “I have Dig now. He’ll never let him come close enough.”

“He was close enough tonight.”

She cocks her head a little in contemplation. “Yeah, I don’t… I don’t understand that. He clearly went through quite a bit of trouble to create this new identity and to get the job at QC. It’s all wasted now that I know his identity. He must know that I’ll come after him.”

“I don’t understand how you can be this calm.” The ‘because I’m completely freaking out right now’ goes unsaid.

She lets out a breathy laugh. “I’ve already done all the freaking out I could do, don’t you think? My brain has worked through every scenario on what his next move will be and on the drive over I’ve ordered all my programs to track down every last piece of information on Sheldon Masters. If there’s something to find, I will find it.”

She sounds completely determined and it helps to calm his own nerves, knowing that she really is fine, despite her earlier reaction.

“I just… earlier you were… and I….” he doesn’t know how to tell her how terrifying it was to see her like that, to see all the anguish and pain and not be able to do anything about it. He never _ever_ wants to see her like that again, but with Cooper back in the picture…

“I hate how I reacted when I saw him. I hate that he was able to make me live through everything again simply by being there. I don't know if this'll make sense, but the panic attack was about facing my past without any sort of warning. I’m not worried about what’s coming,” she tries to explain and looks at him with a flare of guilt in her eyes. “But I’m sorry that I ruined your birthday.”

“You didn’t ruin my birthday,” he assures her quickly. “You trusting me is the best gift I could’ve ever gotten. And while I hate what you had to go through with Cooper, at the same time it shaped the woman you are today and you’re absolutely incredible. I’m just worried about you.”

She blushes at his words and starts nibbling on her bottom lip. And wow, she really has to stop doing that.

“Believe me when I say I’ve learned from my previous mistakes. I refuse to let him take over my life again and I refuse to live in constant fear. One panic attack and two meltdowns on one of the hottest actors in the world is all he gets. From now, on I’ll let my babies do the work and trust Dig and his team to keep me safe,” she tells him resolutely and he believes every word.

That’s his girl. God, he’s so proud of her.

He tightens his grip around her once more, feeling his body and mind starting to crash after all the adrenaline is slowly wearing off, but deciding to try and get another smile out of her to end the evening and his birthday on a good note.

So he narrows his eyes at her playfully and pretends to pout. “Wait, you don’t think I’m _the_ hottest actor in the world?”

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	10. Chapter 10

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

She wakes up slowly in a cocoon of warmth and surrounded by the feeling of safety. It doesn’t even take her a full second to know where she is. In recent months there’s only been one place in the world where she’s felt this utterly content and that is in Oliver’s arms.

Lazily cracking one eye open tells her that they’re still on his couch. He’s lying on his back while she’s nestled into his side, her head resting on his chest.

The all-encompassing feeling of peace and contentment is such a stark contrast to the bone-crushing panic she’d felt the night before when she’d laid eyes on Cooper for the first time in over six years.

It was terrifying and overwhelming and just completely out of nowhere.

Of course she’d known that he was still out there doing whatever it is that he’s doing, but to have him just appear back in her life like this, to have him take on the same position she was once offered at QC is insane.

He should rot in jail and not be offered a six figure job with one of the country’s leading companies. He should pay for what he did to her.

Despite all the anger raging inside her she still can’t help but wonder what his plan is.

In some ways, even though she’d like to think that she wasn’t actively waiting for it, she’d expected Cooper’s return for years.

She’d known that when the day came he wouldn’t have any problem finding her, since it’s not like she’s lived a life in the shadows following her assault. Her company has made several big splashes in the IT world over the past few years that the media also took note of. She’d lived her life loud and proud, showing the entire world her undeniable talent. In a way, she’d always hoped Cooper would read the headlines, so he could see that he’d failed. That he didn’t break her and that he didn’t win. She did. _She_ won.

God, she still hates how she reacted last night.

 _I will not waste another tear on him_ , she promises herself with a resolve that she hasn’t felt in a long time.

A glance at the sleeping man next to her makes her wonder if he’s the reason she feels stronger than she has in years. There’s no doubt about it that he’s changed her life for the better since they met three-ish months ago. He’s managed to worm his way into her life like no-one else has done before, securing himself a place in her heart. Without any pressure from him, she’s finally felt ready to open up to someone other than her two best friends and Dig, sharing even her darkest moments with him. And maybe more importantly, he’s opened up her heart in a way she didn’t even know was possible.

He’s so kind and attentive and just everything she’s ever looked or hoped for in a guy.

And, oh god, what is even happening right now? Is she falling for Oliver Queen?

That is a bad, _bad_ idea! Don’t even go there, Smoak.

Luckily, she doesn’t get to dwell too long on the fact that she’s totally falling in love with him right now, when Arcus’ rough tongue slobbers all over her exposed neck, startling her into full wakefulness.

With as little movement as possible she extricates herself from Oliver’s tight embrace and rolls _almost_ gracefully off the couch, landing right next to the big furry monster who’s wagging his tail excitedly after successfully getting her to move.

She takes a second to stretch out her tired limbs, looking down at Oliver’s sleeping  form, trying (and failing) hard not to linger too long on the spot where his shirt has ridden up, exposing a good portion of his delicious abs.

Nope, still not going there, Smoak.

On her tiptoes she quietly stalks away from him, Arcus hot on her heels, waiting diligently outside the bathroom until she’s ready to take him for his morning walk after putting on the spare pair of sneakers she’s started to keep around Oliver’s place.

On her way down to the park, she briefly wonders if this is a bad idea, going out on her own the morning after her abusive ex-boyfriend reappeared in her life.

But one glance at Arcus who’s happily trotting alongside her is enough to reassure her of her safety. She’s a hundred percent sure that she couldn’t be in better hands, or paws in this case. Even on their first walk all those months ago when the creepy dude had tried to hit on her, Arcus had picked up on her discomfort immediately and had come to her defense. Now, after spending so much time together she knows that he would protect her from anything, no matter how big or small the threat may be.

No seriously, one day when she’d looked after him while Oliver was doing interviews, he’d spent a good hour hunting down a fly that had snuck into her apartment. She’s not sure if he actually caught it or if he’d just given up. Either way, it had taken her a half hour to clean up all the slobber he left on her floor-length windows where he’d tried to trap the fly against the glass.

One thing he can’t protect her from, though, is her own brain and all the questions that she can’t seem to find answers to.

Why did Cooper come here now? What is his plan? And first and foremost: was their encounter last night part of his plan or just a freak coincidence?

It doesn’t make sense to her. Why would he go through all the trouble of creating a new identity that’s good enough to withstand a background check by one of the biggest companies in the country and then be willing to be seen by her after only two weeks on the job? And why QC? Why would he become one of the ‘corporate lap dogs’ that he’d despised so much back in the day?

It can’t be for the money. Sure, the offer that the Queens had made her two years ago was a sizable six figure salary and Cooper had probably gotten a similar offer, but the fact is that he doesn’t need it. He might not be on her level when it comes to hacking, but she knows that he’s capable of breaking into a bank’s system and transferring funds into untraceable off-shore accounts, giving him a virtually unlimited access to however much money he desires or needs.

She frowns, trying to think of another reason, as she lets Arcus off his leash once they reach the fenced-in dog park that is still pretty empty at this early hour on a Sunday morning.

Was he planning to steal research or other classified documents that he couldn’t get his hands on without physically being inside their system? Was he planning on using the QC processing power to hack into something that his own setup wasn’t good enough for?

 _Does it really matter though_ , she quietly asks herself. He’d intentionally or unintentionally blown his cover last night, forcing him back into the shadows, presumably _before_ completing his plan. That must’ve pissed him off.

The familiar ringtone of her phone rips her out of her thoughts abruptly and she can’t help but smile widely when she looks down at the screen.

“Sara! This is a surprise,” she answers the call. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me this early. Did I forget one of our appointments?”

“Nah, don’t worry,” Sara assures her quickly. “Just came back from my morning run and thought I’d see if I could catch you before I head into work.”

“I thought you promised to work less on the weekends?” Felicity teases her friend.

“I knooow,” she whines in response, “but I got this new, super cute client that I’ve decided to make an exception for.”

Of course she has.

“Oh? Are you and Nyssa off again?”

Sara sighs heavily on the other end of the line. “Yeah, a couple of weeks ago something came up at home and she decided to go back to Nanda Parbat indefinitely, so we decided to take a break while she’s gone and see where we’re both at when she comes back. Whenever that is and if she comes back at all. I’m not holding my breath.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sara. You made such a cute couple.”

“On the outside, yes, and we definitely had some good times, but we’ve been fighting a lot lately,” the other blonde says with a hint of sadness in her voice. “And we’ve been doing this on again off again spiel for years now and I’m just tired of it all.”

“Yeah, getting back with your ex is never a good idea. I know a thing or two about that,” Felicity groans out. “But hey, I’m glad you’re not letting it get you down and that you’re open for someone new. Tell me about the new girl.”

“Uh, yeah about that,” Sara hesitates a little. “It’s actually a guy.”

Oh. Okay.

“I didn’t know you were interested in guys,” Felicity tries carefully, not wanting to offend her friend in any way with her surprise.

“I mean… I haven’t been interested in a guy since dating some of them in high school, I guess,” Sara ponders. “And then when I started college I was so caught up in my feelings for Nyssa that I kinda forgot all about liking men, but I might as well just give it another shot, right? Plus, I can’t even remember the last time I had a real dick inside of me instead of one of my dildos.”

 _Tell me about it_ , Felicity thinks to herself.

She bends down and picks up the stick Arcus just dropped expectantly in front of her feet, tossing it as far as she can so he can chase after it.

“And ‘new, super cute client’ is a viable candidate?” she asks, still trying to wrap her head around the situation.

“He’s definitely a hunk,” the other blonde gushes. “And he’s super sweet. He only started coming to the gym a few weeks ago, doing individual training with some of the other trainers, but he’s also taken a few of my yoga classes. And he always lingers around after the class, taking his time with rolling up his mat and getting his stuff, just so he can talk to me on the way out and it’s just the cutest thing because at first he tried to drop some standard pick-up lines on me, but when I shot him down he actually started trying. He’s even brought me flowers and chocolates, Lis.”

“Wow, you sound absolutely smitten,” Felicity realizes with a smile, throwing Arcus’ stick once more to keep him busy during her girl talk.

“I guess I am,” her friend says and Felicity knows even without seeing her that she’s blushing. “I don’t know. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, Lis. He’s, like, actually trying to woo me.”

“That’s great, Sara. I’m really happy for you.”

“Happy enough to do me a pretty big favor?”

“You want me to do a background check on him?” Felicity half teases. “What’s his name? I can do it right now on my phone.”

Sara laughs on the other side of the line. “No, nothing like that. His name’s Lance Lott and he works in finance, that’s all I need to know right now. I assume he’ll tell me the rest on our date next Friday.”

“Are you sure? I could at least check if he has a criminal record. And really, his first name is Lance? That’s a bit weird, considering that’s your last name.”

“No, don’t bother. I’m not getting a bad vibe from him, otherwise I would’ve never agreed to a date. Please promise me you won’t look into him. It’s kinda exciting to do the whole dating and getting to know each other thing.”

“Fine,” Felicity grumbles playfully. “But then what do you need from me?”

“Well,” her friend begins hesitantly, “as exciting as the whole dating thing is, it’s also kinda terrifying and I’m really nervous about it. Ya know, because it’s the first guy in a long time and stuff. And I told Lance as much and he was super understanding and told me that I should just bring a friend and he’ll bring a friend and we’ll make a double date out of it to take the edge of a little bit.”

Oh boy. Here it comes.

“Would you please be my double date wing woman?” Sara asks with so much hope in her voice that Felicity really can’t say no.

“Sara, that’s…” she trails off, not sure how to continue that sentence because suddenly all she can think of his Oliver and his reaction when he hears that she’s going on a date. Would he be happy for her and encourage her to go? Would he be sad and try to make her cancel?

Probably not the latter, she thinks darkly. While he’s been an absolute sweetheart and gentleman over the past three months, he’s yet to give her a clear indication that he feels anything more than friendshippy feelings for her. Actually, he’d kind of squashed all her hopes for ever being more to him by calling her his best friend just last week.

So, happy and supportive Oliver it is.

“I know it’s not your kind of thing, but you’d be the bestest person in the world if you came with me,” Sara pleads.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Felicity sighs in resignation. “Just text me the details and I’ll be there on Friday.”

“Yes,” Sara exclaims happily. “You’re awesome, Felicity. Thank you so much!”

They quickly bid their goodbyes when Sara realizes that she’s running late for her session with the new guy that seems to have captured her heart by storm. Felicity only hopes that her friend knows what she’s getting herself into.

Or maybe the real question should be if Felicity knows what _she’s_ getting herself into. Sure, she’s dated a few guys after the Cooper disaster –even though it took her a good year and a lot of convincing from her friends to get back out there again— but she’s never been a huge fan of the process of the whole thing. She always feels awkward talking to a stranger and opening up without really going into anything too deep. At least the sex is usually good, or at the very least, satisfying.

Her phone chimes with an incoming text from Oliver.

**Morning :) when will u be back? I’ll try to have breakfast ready –O**

**Morning :) Give me 20!** She writes back quickly, whistling for Arcus to come to her side, so they can finish their walk and get back to what will surely be a delicious breakfast.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

“You seriously missed your calling,” she moans around a forkful of truffle omelette, closing her eyes to try and savor the taste even more. “This is amazing, Oliver. If you ever decide to give up acting you should become a chef.”

She thinks she sees his eyes darken for a second before his face erupts into a full blown smile that has her breath stutter. “The last time, you advised me to become a professional cuddler if I ever stop acting. Which one is it, Ms. Smoak?”

Oh, right, she’d almost forgotten about that particular conversation on the morning after the first time they’d shared her couch for a night. He’d replied by saying that he was a one woman cuddler only, kind of insinuating that he only wanted to cuddle with her? Thanks to her best friends’ interruption she hadn’t really gotten the chance to dwell on the fact that he had kind of maybe suggested that he wanted to be more than friends. Or had that exchange just been his natural flirting instinct kicking in?

She swallows hard against all the questions bubbling up in her chest. Maybe her one sided attraction isn’t quite as one sided as she thought it was. “You’re a man of many talents it seems,” she muses, hoping that her voice doesn’t wobble too much.

Her compliment is rewarded by a wide grin that’s just a tad bit smug and a whole lot of sexy. “Guess I am,” he drawls. “My fingers are also quite talented, you know. And I still owe you a massage,” he says waggling his eyebrows and fingers at the same time.

And she’s totally not blushing at that slightly ambiguous statement about his fingers! “Oh, ya know,” she tries to wave off his offer, “I think your extensive cuddling last night absolved you of that duty.”

“A Queen always pays his debts,” he shoots back with a smirk.

She gapes at him. “Did you just quote Game of Thrones? You argue with me every time I want to watch that show with you, mister,” she accuses him, pointing her finger at him in shock.

“They just lost me after Bitch Queen Cersei had Sansa’s wolf killed. That was just so unnecessary and cruel.”

“And yet here you are, quoting the unofficial motto of House Lannister.”

He just shrugs his shoulders and keeps grinning unabashedly at her. “Well, your constant commentary during the episodes makes it much more bearable and kinda fun to watch.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Felicity says with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You literally pick a fight each and every time I put on an episode.”

He has the audacity to fucking wink at her before explaining, “You’re really cute when you get all worked up and start defending the characters and go off on a thirty minute tangent on why this is one of the best TV shows ever.”

Her mouth falls open in shock, unable to process what she’s hearing right now. “You’re the actual worst.”

He keeps that infuriating grin firmly in place, unfazed by her reaction. “Ehh, you know that’s not true. But I’ll be happy to rectify your opinion of me by giving you the best massage you’ve ever had.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she grumbles, hoping that her honest excitement doesn’t show too much through the mock stubbornness.

“How about I come by your place tonight with a nice bottle of wine, some candles and massage oil and I’ll show you what my fingers are capable of,” he suggests casually, like he didn’t just make another fucking innuendo that has her knees turn into jello at the mere thought of _what_ his fingers are capable of. “Deal?”

She takes a deep, cleansing breath –totally buying some time to calm her racing heart— before fixing him with a challenging smirk. “Deal.”

Oh god, what did she just agree to?

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

“Thank you for being there for me last night, Oliver,” she breathes out when they reach her apartment door. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anything for you,” he whispers back, cupping her cheek gently. “Thank you for letting me be there. That really means a lot.”

She smiles up at him with a dopey grin. Even after a few months of knowing him and being his friend, it’s still fascinating to feel the effect he has on her whenever he lets his voice drop to a whisper and whenever he’s so close to her. Hell, she still feels like her body melts away every time his fingers touch her skin.

“I’m looking forward to tonight,” he fills the silence between them, reminding her of what they’d agreed on earlier. After she’d said yes, he’d luckily toned down the flirting –because, come on, he’d totally been flirting right there… right?— and had reverted back to a lighter flow of easy small talk and inside jokes, because otherwise her brain would’ve probably exploded with everything that had happened since last night. “Any special requests for the wine?”

“Surprise me,” she smiles at him, knowing without a doubt that he’ll choose a good one. “As long as it’s red, I’m happy.”

“Sounds good,” he beams right back at her and dips his head to press a kiss to her cheek, which has somehow become their go to move to say hello and goodbye. When had that become a thing?

Her eyes slide momentarily shut when she feels his soft lips brush over her skin and the stubbly juxtaposition of his beard, and she thinks that maybe he lingers for a second longer than strictly necessary, but she’s not about to complain. He can put his lips on her whenever and for however long he wants.

The blissful moment is rudely destroyed by a series of loud noises, letting both her and Oliver freeze in surprise. First, her apartment door is ripped open with so much force that it hits the wall with a loud thud, then there’s a high pitch scream, before Arcus starts barking loudly, probably trying to defend them from their would-be attacker.

“Felicity, you’re finally home,” the high-pitched voice exclaims excitedly. “And who’s your hunky boyfriend? Oh no, I’m totally interrupting a moment between you two right now, aren’t I?”

“Mom?” Felicity whispers, part surprised, part horrified when she realizes what she and Oliver must look like right now with their faces an inch apart. She pulls away quickly, bringing some distance between them while she sees Oliver’s pretty lips silently form the word ‘mom’ in shock.

Oh god, this cannot end well.

“My beautiful baby girl, I thought I’d come up to Starling and surprise you,” Donna squeals and throws herself into her daughter’s arms, hugging her tightly for a few seconds before taking a step back to turn her appraising eyes on Oliver.

“I’m Donna, Felicity’s mom, even though people usually mistake us for sisters,” she whispers with a totally over the top, conspiring wink.

Oliver’s eyes grow wide and flicker to Felicity’s, frantically looking for some help, but she’s too occupied trying not to die from embarrassment.

“I’m… uh… I’m Oliver,” he finally stammers out, plastering on a smile for Donna, stretching out his hand for her to shake which she does with excited vigor.

“Very nice to meet you, darling,” she throws back before looking down at Arcus who’s looking between the three humans with alert eyes, waiting for a command. “And who’s this little puppy?”

Oliver chuckles at the very misleading description of his two and a half foot tall dog. “His name’s Arcus.”

“Aww, isn’t he an absolute cutie?!” Donna asks no-one in particular and crouches down next to the dog in question who’s eyeing her warily but lets her pet him and coo over him like he’s a little baby.

Oliver discretely leans closer to Felicity. “Guess that means a rain check for our plans tonight,” he whispers in her ear so only she can hear.

“Oh, you guys had plans?” Donna questions from her position next to Arcus. “I don’t wanna interrupt. I think this year would be the perfect time to become a grandmother, don’t you think?”

How the fuck did she even _hear_ that?

“We were just going to… watch some TV, mom,” Felicity groans in embarrassment, studiously ignoring her mom’s crack about children, wishing that scientists would hurry up and make time travel a real thing already.

Donna waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, I get. Contrary to popular belief I do keep up with what’s happening in the world and I know what Netflix and Chill means.”

It just doesn’t stop.

“I was just going to cook for her, Donna,” Oliver jumps in, naively thinking that he could rescue the situation when all he does is dig a deeper hole.

“Really?” Donna asks, standing back up and turning to her daughter with a wide smile. “Why have you not told me that you hit the jackpot with your new boyfriend, baby? He looks like that _and_ he can cook? I hope he has an older brother. Or a twin. I’m not picky. I bet he’s fantastic in the sack.”

“Moooom,” Felicity whines, feeling her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, that‘s a shame, you’d make such a cute couple. And even cuter babies,” Donna says and visibly deflates, looking disappointed.

Story of her life.

Felicity finally dares to let her gaze drift to Oliver who… also looks kinda disappointed?

He clears his throat and smiles, even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Well, I don’t wanna keep you ladies from your reunion. It was very nice meeting you, Donna.”

“You don’t have to leave because of me, sugar,” the older woman simply dismisses his attempted escape. “And you don’t have to cancel your plans for tonight. I wouldn’t mind being wined and dined by a handsome young man like you.” She claps her hands together happily. “I’ll be inside while you two discuss this. Don’t be a stranger, sweet pea,” she almost purrs and pats Oliver’s cheek before disappearing back into the apartment.

So, that just happened.

“I’m sorry, Oliver,” Felicity rushes out. “I had no idea she was gonna be here… that she’d say all of that.”

“It’s ok. She seems nice and… energetic.”

She scoffs. “That’s putting it mildly. But seriously, don’t feel obligated to actually cook for us. It was inappropriate of her to even suggest that.”

He shuffles with his feet a little. “What if… what if I wanted to cook for you… and her?” he asks carefully.

Her mouth falls open. “After witnessing _that_ you’re still willing to spend time with her? _Voluntarily_? Did you sneak some whiskey into your coffee this morning?”

He chuckles at her joke and shakes his head. “Stone cold sober, I swear.” He turns a little more serious before continuing, “It’d be kinda nice to get to know her, I guess. See where you came from and hear stories from your childhood.”

He sounds so hopeful and excited that it almost breaks her heart. How can she say no to him when he’s giving her those puppy dog eyes?

“She’ll get worse once she pieces together who you are,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead.

His head tilts to the side. “She doesn’t know who I am?”

“No, I saw it in her eyes. She knows that you look familiar and your name set off something, but she hasn’t worked out who you are and why she knows you. Yet. She’ll go absolutely nuts.”

Oliver chuckles again. “I think you said something similar about Cait and Iris and I survived meeting them,” he reminds her with a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, but they’re, like, harmless and tame in comparison to my mother. Did you not just hear her bring up grandchildren and sex three times within the first five minutes of meeting you? She will ask the most inappropriate questions you could ever imagine,” she warns him, secretly loving that he’s willing to meet her mom and find out more about her past.

“I think I can handle that for an evening. That is if you’d like me to be there?”

She chews her bottom lip in contemplation. “Okay,” she whispers, poking his chest with her finger playfully. “But remember, this was your decision. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He grins and quickly leans down to press another kiss against her cheek. “Arcus and I will be here at 6.30.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW** **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

What the hell was he thinking when he suggested to cook for the two Smoak women?

He’ll blame temporary insanity! Is that a thing? It is now!

How could he ever think that he could handle this? He’s already got his hands full when it’s just Felicity, but adding her mom and her sassy, non-stop commentary is a whole different level.

Right now the older blonde is looking at him from across the room like he’s the last Popsicle on a hot, sunny day and she’s ready to lick him top to bottom… or something along those lines.

Felicity on the other hand is busy alternating between looking at her mother in exasperation and shooting him really loud yet silent looks of ‘I told you so’. He has to give her that one. She really did warn him about her mother’s behavior, but he’d thought he could handle it. He’s not so sure now.

With a slight onslaught of panic, he realizes that he’s done cooking and ready to dish up. So much for some reprieve from Donna’s incessant questions.

“Dinner’s ready,” he calls over to them and grabs their three plates, expertly carrying them over to the waiting women.

“A man who can cook,” Donna muses in a stage whisper. “You should put a ring on that, honey.”

“Still not dating, mom,” Felicity replies, sounding about as exasperated as she looks.

“Are you dating anyone, Oliver?” Donna questions while he sits down next to Felicity.

“Uh, no, actually. I’m not dating anyone right now,” he stammers out. Trying to divert her attention, he motions to the food. “I hope you like pasta.”

Felicity looks at him with a wide smile, maybe the first genuine one tonight, making him once again wonder what happened with her mom since he dropped her off this morning. “It smells amazing,” she says and briefly squeezes his hand before digging in with her usual gusto.

“And it tastes just the same,” Donna gushes around a mouthful. “Women must fall over backwards to be with you. You seem to be the total package: good looking, successful, well-mannered. Almost like a real life Prince Charming.”

“Mom, I think you can stop making him feel uncomfortable now,” Felicity says with a strained smile.

“Well, how about we talk about _your_ love life then, my dear?” her mother suggests. “Are you looking forward to your date on Friday?”

Date? What date?

Oliver’s head whips around, his eyes focusing on Felicity who shifts awkwardly in her seat. “You have a date on Friday?” he questions, voice barely above a whisper. Why didn’t she tell him about it?

“Uhh, yeah,” she replies and smiles hesitantly at him. “It kinda just happened today. My friend slash fitness trainer asked me to be her wing woman for this double date she’s going on.”

“Right,” he breathes out. “Sounds like fun.”

No, it doesn’t. It sounds like hell. His personal hell where he has to watch her be happy with another man.

“We’ll see,” she offers and focuses back on her plate.

The dinner progresses with a really awkward silence hanging between all three of them, only interrupted by the occasional scraping of metal against the plates.

This is so not what he imagined tonight would be like.

“Why don’t you two start watching a movie while I clean up?” Donna suggests at the end of the meal. He tries to protest, but her stern look makes him snap his mouth shut. So that’s where Felicity got _that_ skill from.

“Thanks, Donna,” he smiles at her and grabs Felicity’s hands to pull her up and over to the couch, earning himself a surprised gasp from his favorite blonde, but she still follows him without protest.

They settle in, sitting a few feet apart but facing each other, both with one arm lying on the backrest, fingers almost touching in the middle.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs after a few seconds, eyes glued to her lap. “Tonight was painfully awkward even for a Smoak evening.”

“You did warn me,” he retorts with a half smile.

“Yeah, but I warned you about my mom being inappropriate and star struck as fuck, not about my difficult relationship with her.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

He half expects her to say no and shut him out, but then she surprises him twice within a matter of seconds. First, with tapping her fingertips softly against his, seeking out their special connection, and then, by talking to him.

“She’s pissed at me.”

“Why’s that? She flew all the way out here to see you and seemed really excited this morning.” He responds to her touch, letting his own fingers glide over hers slowly until they're entwined.

“Yeah,” she sighs, “but she just showed up unannounced and with the shittiest timing on the planet.”

He frowns at that, waiting for her to explain.

“She was nagging me about going shopping, but I wanted to get a head start on finding Cooper and because I don’t wanna tell her about him being back I told her I had to get some work done first. That led to an hour long monologue of how I’m always working and never make time for myself, or enjoy our time together when she’s around. And that led to talking about my non-existent love life, which in turn led to her riddling me with questions about you. It was just exhausting and painful. And exactly what I _didn’t_ need today. Especially, after the emotional cry fest I had last night and with everything happening right now. I just don’t have time to deal with her and her disappointment in me.”

He squeezes her hand with a little more force, his brain rallying for the right words. “I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to parents,” he begins, thinking of his own more than strained relationship with his family. “Just… from what I’ve seen, she really loves you and she wants to spend time with you.”

“And I’d be all for that if she’d just call and check that I’m not busy before getting on a plane and flying all the way out here,” she points out.

“Why don’t you wanna tell her about Cooper?” he asks, keeping his voice down.

She scoffs a little. “If there’s one person in this world that hates Cooper as much as I do, it’s my mom. She’d be worried sick if she knew. And she’d probably never leave my side again.”

“How are you holding up with everything?”

“You know,” she says with a weak smile, “trying to cope, but there’s still this tiny part of my brain that can’t process the fact that he’s really back. I just wanna catch him and throw his sorry ass in jail for the rest of his miserable life.”

He tugs a little on her hand while also moving closer, an unmistakable invitation for a hug. She doesn’t need to be told twice and scoots closer, until she’s half on the couch and half in his lap, her nose pressed against the crook of his neck.

“I’m so glad I have you in my life,” she murmurs, her breath ghosting over his skin, sending a little shudder through his body.

He tightens his hold on her and she melts completely into him. “No place I’d rather be.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, a comfortable silence surrounding them this time.

“Hey, how come you didn’t tell me about your date?” he finally asks, thinking now’s as good a time as any to break his heart.

But the only response he gets is one soft puff of air hitting his throat after another, and he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the crown of her head. While he would’ve liked to get an answer, he’s glad that she gets some much needed rest after a stressful day, not to mention an even more stressful night before that.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Donna’s soft voice startles him out of his musings and he’s careful not to wake the sleeping woman in his arms.

He opens his mouth to deny it, to tell her the standard line of ‘we’re just really good friends’, but he can’t. Words fail him in that moment.

“That’s what I thought,” she responds in a soft tone, settling down in an arm chair. “I can’t decide whether I’m rooting for you or not.”

Oliver frowns at that. “You don’t think I’d be good for her?” He can’t keep the hurt out of his voice completely.

“I’m her mom. It’s kinda my job to worry about her,” she says with a wink. “I think you could be amazing together. From what I’ve seen tonight and this morning you have a sizzling chemistry and you seem to be completely in sync. And this,” she motions towards the two of them, “is amazing to see. I haven’t seen her open up to someone like this in a long time. Actually _trusting_ someone other than Caitlin and Iris.”

“And yet you still have doubts,” Oliver points out.

“I’m scared you’ll hurt her. Not intentionally, of course,” she’s quick to add. “But with your lifestyle and job and everything that comes with it… I’m just worried that she’ll lose herself in you and lose who _she_ is in the process. I know that my baby girl has become a strong and independent woman, but I don’t think she could deal with being hurt by another man.”

“I’m not like Cooper,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

“She told you about him?” Donna asks, honestly taken aback for a moment when he nods solemnly. “Sadly, he wasn’t the first man to hurt her. Her father left us when she was just seven years old and I think that hurt her more than she’s ever let on. After Cooper, I was sure she’d give up on finding a man that would stick around for her.” She smiles softly at him. “I guess I was wrong.”

“But you’re still not convinced that I’d be good for her.”

She sighs softly, shaking her head. “You seem like a very nice guy, Oliver. And I love to see my daughter light up like a Christmas tree when you walk into the room, but I can’t just shake my concerns about your life. Hollywood is notoriously toxic with all the nasty rumors and gossip, with paparazzi and the industry’s vanity. I can’t help but want to keep my child as far away as possible from all that negativity and unfair judgement. But you’d bring all that right to her doorstep.”

He sinks back into the couch, inhaling sharply. He’s never really thought about that. He's been too consumed with his new friendship with Felicity and his feelings for her to take a second to consider the consequences this, even just their friendship, could have on her life. So far they’d been lucky with paparazzi. None of them seem to be interested in his boring, scandal-free life away from Hollywood.

But what will happen once he goes back next year? How would a relationship with Felicity work then? He’d have to move back to LA for large portions of the year and travel to other on-location shoots, which would take him away from her for long periods of time. He’d have to leave her behind to fend off all the paparazzi and gossip magazines by herself.

Would it affect her company? Would she be stalked by dozens of photogs wherever she’d go?

He slams his eyes shut, trying to block out all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘would bes’, trying to concentrate on the here and now.

When he gets his mind back under control, he almost laughs out loud at his momentary lapse. None of those questions matter if she doesn’t feel the same way.

Donna is right, they have amazing chemistry. And he honestly believes, they make each other’s lives better, but that doesn’t mean that she also has any sort of romantic feelings for him. Hell, she’s going on a date with another guy on Friday. If that’s not a clear hint, he doesn’t know what is.

“Guess that means I don’t have your blessing,” he finally replies with a bitter smile.

Suddenly Donna’s standing next to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “No, that means that I need you to be very, _very_ sure before you even think about telling her about your feelings and dragging her into all that madness,” she warns him before quietly walking off.

Well, fuck.

What now?

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I think there might be a few more curse words in this one than usual.

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Sooo, he might’ve kinda fucked up? Just a little bit?

Not, like, completely fucked up. But he’s managed to make Felicity angry and confused and that kinda counts as fucking up in his book.

Damnit.

Truth be told, Donna's words had rattled him.

At first, he'd wanted to protest, shoot down all her objections to a possible relationship with her daughter and tell her that there was nothing to worry about. But then her words had actually caught up with him, finally registering in his brain.

And suddenly he hadn't been able to say anything.

Because she was right. God damnit.

While her warning itself had already irked him, it was the fact that he hadn't once thought about the possible repercussions for Felicity's life before that conversation that had really pissed him off. He'd been so blinded by all the light she'd brought into his dull life, too caught up in his self-imposed hiatus, that he'd forgotten that this isn't actually his normal life.

No, his normal life is being gone from home for months at a time, movie premieres, interviews, photoshoots and a perverse number of paparazzi following his every step, trying to snap the next big money shot.

How could he even think about imposing that life on Felicity?

She deserves so much better. She deserves a guy that is there for her, supporting her in everything she does, instead of adding another stressful part to her life in the form of a long-distance relationship.

Fuck, why didn't he think of this sooner?

It had been too good to be true. He should've known better than to trust the effortless time he's had with Felicity. It was bound to blow up in his face at some point.

He still doesn't know how long it took him, but once his brain had processed Donna's warning he'd quite literally run away, leaving the sleeping blonde alone on her couch.

An unusual behavior Felicity had immediately questioned him about the next morning after waking up without so much as a note explaining his sudden absence (and also after he'd let three of her calls go to voice mail).

She was worried and he can't blame her for that. He would've probably reacted the same way if the tables were turned. But at the same time, he didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know what to do about their friendship and his more than friendship-y feelings for her. He still doesn't.

He's avoided her all week, safe for the occasional text conversation that was always initiated by her. He'd told her to enjoy her time with her mom and that he was busy with interviews and other promotional stuff for his movie that'll finally premiere next week.

It wasn't exactly a lie. He did have a few interviews scheduled throughout the week, as well as a couple of photoshoots and Facebook Q&As, but he could've made time for her. He hadn't, though, and he also hadn't asked her -or rather, taken her up on her offer- to look after Arcus.

After the second day in a row, she'd stopped offering via text and calls, going so far as showing up at his door. He'd pretended not to be home. A reaction also known as the low point of his entire week.

On Thursday, after four days of minimal communication, dodging calls and not seeing her face-to-face, she'd finally had enough, sending him one last text (Hey, Stranger. Hope you’re okay. I don't know what's going on with you right now, but you know where to find me when you're ready to talk. -F) before going radio silent.

A chain of events that has brought him here, torturing himself in the building's gym and contemplating his decisions.

He has to admit that shutting Felicity out and avoiding her wasn't his brightest idea. It hasn’t helped him, not one bit. It might've actually made things worse in his head because he hasn’t had her calming levelheadedness to silently guide him to a solution.

What is he supposed to say to her? He’s pretty sure that “Hey, Felicity, sorry for avoiding you the last few days, but I kinda realized that I’m in love with you, but then made the unilateral decision that we shouldn’t be together even though the mere thought of not seeing you makes me physically sick” wouldn’t go over too well with her.

Suddenly, all the awards he’s ever won mean jack. He’s not sure he could act like nothing is wrong the next time he sees her. And even if he manages to pull it off, he’s pretty sure she would still call him out on his weird and distant behavior all week long.

Damnit!

As if his silent conflict and the physical exertion aren’t torture enough already, his phone suddenly lights up with an incoming text. From Felicity.

Of fucking course.

For a full minute he stares at the screen, his punishing running pace slowing down to a more forgiving jog, trying to decide whether to ignore the text or not.

In the last text she’d sent him yesterday she’d told him that he should come find her when he’s ready to talk, leaving the ball in his court. So if she’s breaking her own rule now that has to mean that it’s about something important, right?

Fuck it, he thinks and jumps off the treadmill, landing on wobbly legs as he opens the unread text.

**Arcus just showed up at my place. Might wanna check if your door is locked. –F**

No greeting, no how are you, no rambling, just straight to the point. She’s definitely pissed at him.

And what the hell is his dog up to again?

There’s no avoiding her now.

Groaning, he picks up his towel and with a churning stomach makes his way down to Felicity’s apartment after a quick pit stop on his floor to see that, yes, his door is indeed wide open.

She takes only a few seconds to open the door after he knocks, definitely not enough time to prepare for the sight in front of him. He’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits. And his heart stops. And he stops breathing. All at once.

Is he staring? Fuck, he’s totally staring.

He just can’t help himself though because it’s been too fucking long since he’s seen her –and whose fault is that, a taunting voice inside his head asks— and she looks absolutely stunning in a very short black dress that ends mid-thigh, with a plunging neckline and really, _really_ revealing cutouts on the sides that show off her creamy skin. Even her wet hair and make-up free face can’t distract from her breathtaking beauty.

When he finally gets his reaction back under control he doesn’t miss the way her eyes quickly rake over his sweat-drenched body with a glint of lust and appreciation, before she pastes on a strained smile. “He was scratching on my door and when I let him in he just skipped right into my bedroom and onto my bed. He actually growled at me when I tried to move him. Stubborn little guy,” she grumbles before whirling around and adding, “Wonder where he gets that from.”

He wants to retort something witty, maybe even snappy, to that little jab, but once again his brain freezes and any words die on his tongue when he sees the back of the dress. Or more precisely the lack thereof, because, fuck, there’s only a few straps of black material crossing here and there, revealing a glorious amount of her skin. Skin that he wants to run his hands over, exploring every inch of-

“Are you coming?” she calls over from her bedroom.

Almost.

He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, suddenly glad that he has his towel with him to put in front of his growing erection. Fucking libido.

He walks extra slowly, thinking of the most disgusting and unsexy things he can come up with on the spot as he wills his body to calm down. This is so not the time to make things even more awkward by openly lusting after the woman he’s kind of decided he can’t have. _Has_ he decided that? His body has yet to receive the memo.

Her bedroom is a complete mess. The door to her walk-in closet wide open, shoes scattered all over the floor and dresses haphazardly thrown onto her bed, and ruling over it all from his prime spot on Felicity’s bed is his dog.

“Arcus, come,” he orders sternly, hoping that his dog will just obey and end this quickly so he can go and fantasize about ways to take that dress off of Felicity in the privacy of his own apartment.

Arcus barely lifts his head in response before pressing his nose into the fabric of one of the dresses he’s lying on. Traitor.

“Yeah, I already tried that,” Felicity sighs from where she’s standing in the doorframe to her bathroom. “I gotta get ready, but let me know if I can help,” she says with a small smile before turning back into the other room.

Oliver lets out a long breath, absolutely hating the almost tangible rift between them. She’s cold and distant and he really can’t blame her. He’s given her no explanation whatsoever for his behavior and completely deserves getting the cold shoulder from her now. Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

He tunes out the sound of the hairdryer in the adjacent room and moves closer to the bed. “Come on, buddy, we gotta go home.”

No reaction.

“Arcus,” he tries again, his tone more insistent as he stalks closer. When there’s still no reaction from his dog he crouches down in front of the bed, bringing himself to eye level with him. “I know, okay? I know I fucked up and I know that I need to apologize, but now’s not the time. She’s about to go on a date and doesn’t need this shit right now. Don’t look at me like that, man.” Good god, he’s actually going crazy.

Arcus actually holds his gaze for a few seconds before heaving his body into a standing position on the bed, making Oliver think he actually managed to talk sense into his dog, but instead of jumping off the bed, Arcus turns around and plops back down onto the bed with a grunt, his butt turned towards his owner.

Seriously?

Oliver grinds his teeth together, shaking his head slightly at the little bastard’s antics. Sometimes he’s way too much like an actual human being.

“Going well, I see?” Felicity chimes and steps closer. He hadn’t even realized that she’d switched off the hairdryer.

“Yeah,” he sighs and stands back up. “If this is what having a pubescent teenager is like, I’m not sure I ever want kids.”

That elicits a chuckle from her, making him turn to face her once more.

“Oh,” he breathes out when he takes her in, gesturing at the blue dress she’s donning now. “You changed?”

She looks down, smoothing a hand over the vibrant fabric. “I’m still in the trying on stuff phase of date prep. I think the black one was a bit too much for a first date.”

Right, the date. With another man. Stab me in the heart, why don’t you?

“Excited?”

“I guess,” she says with a weak smile, not meeting his eyes. “More nervous, to be honest. It’s been a while since my last date and with everything that happened last week I’m kind of still on edge.”

Oh wow. He’s such an insensitive asshole.

Amidst all of his own insecurities and doubts he’d completely forgotten about her asshole of an ex being back in town. She’d literally _just_ confided in him, telling him about the fear that this Cooper guy still invokes in her after all the horrible things he did six years ago. And what does he do? Like the great friend that he is, he was so caught in his own head that he never once thought about how she must be feeling right now. No, instead he’d basically abandoned her in the aftermath to deal with everything on her own.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“How… uh… how are you doing with everything?” he asks, really looking at her for the first time since he stepped into her apartment tonight. Without any make-up to mask her tiredness, he can see dark circles under her eyes. And it’s so obvious in the way her posture is a little slumped that tells him that even if she says she’s okay, it’ll be a blatant lie. She looks drained and defeated, and nothing like her usual confident self. Has she lost weight? Damnit.

Her lips turn up for just a split second into a half-ass smile. “It’s been… rough. You know, with having my mom here and juggling work and setting up searches for Cooper… It was a lot to handle.” She shrugs and pastes on a fake smile. “But luckily I’m blessed with great friends, so that’s a plus. Cait and Iris have helped a lot. They actually convinced me to talk to my lawyer to see if we can find enough admissible evidence to turn things over to the feds. It’s all a bit difficult with him erasing every trace of his old identity. We’ll see how things work out.”

And guess who wasn’t there to help her through it all?

“Felicity,” he whispers, even though he has no idea what he can possibly say to make things better.

He almost lets out a sigh of relief when his phone starts ringing in his pocket with Tommy’s custom ringtone. He doesn’t really wanna talk to his (former?) best friend right now, but anything is better than seeing the mixture of sadness and disappointment in her eyes with no way of making her feel better, so he shoots her an apologetic “I gotta take this” and hightails it out of her bedroom.

He’s barely reached her doorway when he hears a mumbled “Good to know that you still pick up the phone for other people”. He slams his eyes shut, but doesn’t stop walking.

“Hey, Tommy,” he greets the other man.

“’Sup, Ollie?” Tommy asks as cheerful as ever.

“Ya know, promotion keeps me busy.”

“Right, right,” he drawls. “How about you take a night off and get drinks with me?”

“I’m not really in the mood to go clubbing tonight,” Oliver answers truthfully, thinking back to all the trouble that ‘getting drinks’ with Tommy has led to in the past.

“I didn’t say anything about going to a club, man,” his friend immediately assures him. “Just drinks. Maybe dinner. Come on, Ollie, I haven’t seen you in forever. It’s about time we talked again.”

He’s right. It’s been more than a month since they’ve last spoken to each other during that unfortunate evening when Tommy had been a complete dick to Felicity and him.

This might actually be the longest time he’s gone not speaking to his friend. With Felicity coming into his life he hasn’t really missed him that much, knowing that whenever Tommy Merlyn is around there’s a good chance of getting into trouble and/or waking up with a massive hangover.

But who is he to deny someone a second chance? Maybe Tommy’s behavior that night had just been fueled by the copious amounts of alcohol and whatever was going wrong in his own life. Maybe he’d just been frustrated and had made the unfortunate decision to unleash his feelings by being a complete dick. Maybe with a little distance and time to look back at it, he’d realize that he’d been wrong.

Second chance it is then.

“Okay, yeah, let’s do it,” he finally agrees, wondering if this is a bad idea.

He hears Tommy whooping on the other end of the line, making him grin. “Awesome! Meet me at Table Salt in an hour?”

“Sure. See you in a bit, man.”

He shoves the phone back into his pocket and trudges back into Felicity’s bedroom. The bathroom door is closed and Felicity is nowhere to be seen. Maybe she’s doing her make-up in the awkwardness-free zone of her bathroom. That’s probably for the best, he thinks darkly, feeling completely helpless in the newfound uneasiness between them that’s completely his own fault.

With a deep sigh he moves to the door separating them and knocks hesitantly. “Felicity? I’m gonna head out. Thanks for letting me know about Arcus.”

There’s a short pause before she answers, “No problem. Have a good night.”

God, he just hates the strained cheerfulness in her voice, sounding nothing like her usual bubbly, happy self. In large parts because he’s been a complete douchebag this past week.

“Thanks,” he replies, sounding equally forced. “Have fun tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

He’s pretty sure she says, “Not gonna hold my breath” before she raises her voice. “Kay. Bye.”

Wow, she’s really good at this passive aggressive shit, he thinks with a frown. But yeah, he totally deserved that… and more.

He runs a hand through his short hair in frustration, walking over to the bed where Arcus is still holding his ground.

“Buddy, I have absolutely zero nerves to do this right now, so you’ll either get up or I’ll carry you the whole fucking way back to my apartment,” he warns his dog, pointing his index finger at him.

After getting no reaction from his stubborn dog –did he really expect one?— he wraps his arms around the canine, scooping him up into his arms, ignoring his low growl of disapproval.

Has he always been this fucking heavy? Someone’s going on a diet soon.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 

It was definitely a surprise when Tommy had suggested to go to Table Salt to get drinks, the gourmet restaurant being a far cry from their usual haunts. But hey, maybe this is a good sign. Maybe Tommy is finally growing up.

Now, here’s to hoping that fate isn’t a cruel bitch tonight and lets him run into Felicity on her date. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?

“Hey, man, glad you could make it on such short notice,” Tommy greets him from his place at the bar, pulling him into a quick hug.

“Couldn’t say no to a drink,” Oliver says with a wink, giving the barkeeper the sign to get him the same drink as his friend.

“Bad week?”

“Ehh, you know, just a lot of work. This promo stuff is keeping me pretty busy and after a couple of hundred interviews of getting the same boring questions over and over again I’d rather sit through an entire dinner with my parents.”

Tommy chuckles and holds up his glass. “Hope tonight will give you some much needed relaxation then.”

They clink glasses and Oliver savors the slight burn of the whiskey as it slides down his throat. “How did that project of yours turn out? Mom told me you were stuck in negotiations last week.”

“Didn’t go that well. Talks are on ice for now until they get their heads out of their asses,” Tommy grunts in dismay. “Sorry about missing your party, by the way. I sent two gorgeous lingerie models in my stead. Figured you’d at least get to have some fun if you had to endure a night at the mansion with your parents. I didn’t hear of any casualties, so it must’ve gone okay at least.”

“Well, my parents were… my parents,” Oliver shrugs, earning himself an understanding nod from his friend. “Something came up with Felicity and we actually left early, so my time with them was pretty limited.”

Tommy sets his glass down with a frown. “Felicity? The nerdy, blonde chick you were banging last month? She’s still around? Damn, I knew I should've gotten in on that action.”

No apology for his beahvior on the horizon then.

“Tommy,” he growls quietly. “She’s my friend. Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Or what? Gonna kick me out again?” the man in question scoffs, but holds up his hands in defense after seeing the dead serious look in his friend’s eyes. “Fine, man. I’ll stop. Don’t punch me.”

A beat passes, both of them nursing their drinks before Tommy blurts out, “So you really haven’t fucked her?”

“Tommy!”

“Why do you keep her around then? Or better yet, why is _she_ staying around? Is she blackmailing you?”

“For god’s sake, Tommy. We’re friends. That’s what friends do. They hang out together.” Tommy looks like he’s about to protest. “ _Friends_ , Tommy. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that was a blatant lie. On a normal day they’re more than friends, or at least, more than any other friendship he’s ever had, including Tommy. He trusts her completely with basically every aspect of his life. He never has to worry about her calling the paps or using all the very deep and private conversations they’ve had over the last months to make a quick buck from some gossip magazine. No, his Felicity is pure and good-hearted and would never even think about doing anything that could hurt him or their trust in each other.

What the hell did he ever do to deserve having her in his life?

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Tommy assents. “But you must admit that it’s been eerily quiet when it comes to your sex life. Be honest, when was the last time you fucked a girl?”

Too damn long.

“Why do you even care?”

“Because I’m your best friend and it physically hurts me to see you endure a dry spell from hell like this,” Tommy tells him, putting one hand dramatically over his heart. “Which is why I got a solution for you, buddy.”

Oh, no. This can’t possibly end well.

“Do I even want to ask?”

“You don’t have to because I’ll tell you anyway,” he grins, clapping Oliver’s shoulder excitedly. “So there’s this chick at my new gym, one of the instructors actually.”

“Stop right there, man,” Oliver warns. “You do remember why you changed gyms in the first place, right? Did you learn nothing from that?”

“Oh, shush,” his philandering friend waves off his objection. “Just because they couldn’t handle the fact that I was sleeping with three of the instructors should not be grounds for asking me to leave.”

Oliver just curves one eyebrow in silent challenge.

“Ugh, fine, whatever,” Tommy sighs. “Anyways, this chick is pretty hot and she’s a yoga instructor, so I’ve already seen how fucking flexible she is. At first, she was playing hard to get with this whole lesbian shtick, but once I activated my charm mode, buttering her up with flowers and talking and that kinda shit, she totally fell for it and agreed to get dinner with me.”

Oliver can only gape at his friend in stunned shock. Is he fucking serious? Is he really boasting about putting on a play to get this poor woman to go out with him? Why the fucking hell are they even friends anymore?

“I really, really hope this is one of your sick jokes.”

“Oh, come on, dude. You know how it is here. I’m just so bored,” Tommy actually whines. “These women in Starling are so fucking boring. If I say jump they ask how high. It’s nice to know that I can always get a quick fuck in whenever I want, but there’s no challenge. You know I love a good challenge.”

“So you’re just using this woman for your own personal amusement? You’re better than that, Tommy.” Is he, though?

“A few years ago you would’ve jumped at a chance like this,” he counters with a knowing smirk. “She doesn’t know who I am. Do you know how awesome it is to just start off fresh? Without chicks flinging themselves at me for my money or because they hope to make it to Page Six? She’s making me actually work for it.”

“She doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. I used my old alias there.”

Oliver barely resists the urge to rub his hands over his face in frustration, suddenly a hundred times more tired than just ten seconds ago. “This is all gonna blow up in your face when she finds out. These things never end well.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? She’ll say ‘fuck you’ and leave. Big deal. I’ll find someone else to keep my bed warm tonight,” Tommy shrugs.

This man is seriously incorrigible.

Wait, what did he say?

Tonight?

“Woah, wait, Tommy,” he interjects quickly, horrified of what’s to come. “Please tell me you didn’t drag me into this with you.”

“It’ll be fun! Just like old times.”

“You seriously want me to third-wheel your date?” He can’t be serious.

“Nah, man, I got you,” Tommy boasts. “She’s bringing someone for you. Just keep that friend busy so I can lay on the charm and we’ll be outta here in no time on our way to my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna be part of this,” Oliver protests and gets up from the bar stool, carelessly throwing a fifty dollar bill on the counter.

“Too late, they’re here,” Tommy says with an unapologetic grin, jerking his head towards a small blonde making a beeline for them, closely followed by another blonde in a very familiar blue dress, eyes ablaze with confusion and horror.

Oh. Hell. No.

This is gonna be long night.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW ⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 

Tonight was supposed to be a good night. A fun night out with one of the very few not work-related friends she has here in Starling City.

She was supposed to have a nice dinner with her friend and a guy she’s never met, but who was hopefully fun to hang out with, at least for the duration of the meal. And hey, if he was nice and funny, she’d be absolutely open to extend the night and go get some drinks.

Anything to get her brain to accept that her silly crush on Oliver would never turn into anything real. Because apparently now he doesn’t even want to spend time with her anymore.

He’s been so fucking weird and distant this past week and she has no idea why. He’s avoided her like the plague, dodging her calls and texts. She’s pretty sure he even pretended not to be home one night when she’d had enough of his sudden dick behavior and knocked on his door.

Through his sparse texts he’d told her that he was really busy with all his promotional duties for the new movie that’s set to premiere next week which would’ve been an acceptable excuse had he not also declined all of her offers to look after Arcus. He hasn’t done that even once in the months they’ve known each other.

So, yeah, all of his closed off and tightlipped behavior had pissed her off beyond words.

They may not have known each other for a very long time, but they’ve still always been very honest and open with one another, even if that led to saying, “I’m not ready to talk about it.” At least that told her where she stood. This silence from him and shouting into the void from her is just confusing and frustrating.

Did she do something wrong? Did she say something that made him turn away? Did she drool on him on her couch and he’s grossed out now? What the fuck happened?

Having that same question stuck in her head all week long with no answer in sight –because the only person who could shed some light on the situation is doing everything in his power to avoid her—had worn her down.

So she’d made a resolution yesterday to stop going after him and instead let him figure out how to get his head out of his ass on his own. That had worked for all of thirty hours until Arcus had showed up at her door and she’d been forced to contact his stubborn owner.

Safe to say that when Oliver had rushed down –coming right down from the gym in all his sweaty, muscle-y glory, mind you— their interaction had been painfully stilted and awkward and she hated every single second of it. But she still hadn’t gotten an explanation, so she’d gratefully seized the moment when he’d gotten a call, remaining in the safety of her bathroom until he’d left.

She’d finished getting ready, willing her mind to focus on the impending date with some stranger. By the time she had to leave her apartment to meet Sara for pre-dinner drinks, she’d actually managed to be pretty excited for what was to come.

And then fate decided to be a motherfucking pain in the ass by creating this whole situation.

Felicity can't believe her eyes when she walks into Table Salt and immediately spots Oliver Queen –because, come on, he’s Oliver Queen— and his dickhead friend over at the bar. She doesn’t even have time to think about how awkward this whole blind double date will be with Oliver sitting a few feet away, a spectator to the whole thing. Nope, no time for that because Sara lets out an excited giggle and starts making a beeline for the handsome duo.

Abort mission! _Abort mission_ , her mind is screaming at her, but her feet don’t get the memo and still carry her over to the threesome. With a completely fogged up mind she finds herself helplessly gaping at Sara who’s throwing her arms around Tommy in greeting, trying her hardest not to look at Oliver.

Lance Lott my ass!

“Sara, this is my friend Ollie. Ollie, meet Sara,” she hears Tommy make introductions, judging by his chipper tone he hasn’t seen her yet.

“Oh, wow,” Sara breathes out shakily. “Oliver Queen. Never thought I’d get the chance to meet you.” She turns around and grabs Felicity’s hand, dragging her to her side. “Lance, Oliver, this is my friend Felicity.”

An awkward silence engulfs the little group, a stark contrast to Sara’s happy voice.

Oliver finally clears his throat. “Yeah, we… uh… we know each other.”

‘We know each other’, really?! No ‘we’re friends’?

Sara whirls around to face her with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You know Oliver Queen?”

Felicity quickly pastes on a smile. “Well, _knowing_ is such a broad term. We’re… just neighbors.”

Yup, that classification hit him right in the gut if his slight wince and pained eyes are anything to go by.

“And you know Lance, as well?”

She turns her full attention to the man in question, the same man who’d called her a bitch, a gold digger and a floozy within ten minutes of meeting her for the first time. “I don’t know _Lance_ , but I have had the very unfortunate pleasure of meeting Tommy Merlyn. Spoiler alert: he’s a dick!”

Tommy’s somewhat pleasant smile slips off his lips, icy blue eyes shooting daggers in her direction. How inappropriate and frowned upon would it be if she slapped him right here and now?

Before Sara has a chance to react, he grabs her hands and drags her a few feet away with a mumbled, “Let me explain.”; which leaves her alone with Oliver standing right there in front of her. Great! Because the evening doesn’t suck enough already.

“Hey,” he croaks out after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, that she definitely didn’t use to try and eavesdrop on the hushed conversation happening a few feet away, praying to god that Sara will slap the shit out of the little lying bastard.

Yeah, he looks about as uneasy as she feels. “Hey.”

“This is a bit unexpected,” he chuckles nervously, shifting on his feet.

She gives him a tightlipped half smile. “That’s one way to put it.”

He steps closer, hesitantly bringing up a hand to cup her face. “I’m sorry for how I acted this week, Felicity,” he whispers, and he’s close enough that his hot breath ghosts over her cheek.

She slams her eyes shut for a second, fighting her body’s need to melt into him. “You could just say that you don’t wanna be friends anymore instead of giving me the cold shoulder for no apparent reason, you know.”

His fingers twitch against her skin. “That’s not… God, that’s not what I want. I just…,” he trails off, running his tongue over his lips, searching for the words. “Can we talk, like, really _talk_ later when we get out of here?” His big blue eyes are pleading with her and once again her brain isn’t strong enough to withstand him.

“Yeah,” she agrees in a whisper. “That’ll probably be sooner than later because there’s no way Sara will let Tommy’s dishonesty fly.”

Oh, how wrong she is about that. She doesn’t know what the hell Tommy said to her friend to worm his way out of the situation, but when the two rejoin them just a few seconds later they’re all smiles, arms slung around each other.

So for some fucked up reason they’re actually sitting down to eat.

Damnit, Sara, stop thinking with your pussy and start realizing that he’s a complete dick and probably just wants to go all “wham, bam, thank you, ma’am” on you.

Maybe now that they’ve determined that “Lance Lott” is (probably) not some sick serial killer, she can bail on this shit show and go home, right?

But then there’s Oliver who keeps glancing at her over his menu, his eyes full of hope and maybe a smidge of excitement, and she actually finds herself not wanting to leave, because if she tunes out Tommy and Sara this is kinda nice. Being out and about with Oliver, sharing a meal in an actual restaurant that doesn’t have the word ‘belly’ in its name is something that she’s not used to, but apparently has been secretly craving.

Once again that little flame inside of her, the one that is stoked whenever she’s near Oliver, awakens, and for a few precious seconds she lets herself imagine what it would be like to go on an actual date with Oliver. Would he choose to take her to Table Salt as well? Or would he cook up something for them and drive her to a romantic spot to have a picnic far away from any other distractions?

 _Don’t go there, Felicity,_ a little voice warns her, _you’ll only get hurt. Look at how he’s made you feel this week._

She rips herself out of those dangerous thoughts, forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation going on around her.

“How did you two meet?” Tommy asks once the waiter has taken their orders, and he almost sounds genuinely interested.

“Felicity goes to the other gym I work at and we met right after I moved here last year when she took one of my classes,” Sara explains happily, grinning at the other blonde.

Since Felicity isn’t buying into Tommy’s act of actually giving a shit, she decides to steer the conversation in another direction. “So when did you come up with the name Lance Lott?”

Much to her glee, Tommy chokes on air and coughs a few times all the while glaring at her. “Can’t figure out what it means, blondie?” he spits out.

“Oh, I’ve figured it out. It's not the wittiest pun, after all,” she assures him sweetly. “I asked you _when_ you came up with it.”

He just continues to glare at her, not saying a word, so Oliver jumps in to fill the tense silence, “We did a play in middle school about the legend of King Arthur. I played Arthur and Tommy wanted to play Merlin for obvious reasons, but when he didn’t get the part, he took on the role of Lancelot. We always made jokes about the roles because a Queen played the King and the nickname kinda stuck with me throughout high school. And because calling Tommy Lancelot was kind of a mouthful we shortened it to Lance.” He huffs out a small laugh and shrugs, “I don’t know. It’s a stupid story, but the names stuck. Later, when I got some success and more public scrutiny I sometimes used the name Arthur King to check into hotels or reserve tables, and Tommy did the same with the name Lance Lott.”

Tommy grins wistfully. “Those were the times, my friend. Nobody could stop us back then.”

“Oh, yes, we’ve all heard the stories,” Felicity chimes in, happy to see that she was once again responsible for wiping that stupid smirk off his face. “But I guess money gets you a free pass on a lot of things, huh?”

Tommy grits his teeth and turns to his friend. “Tell me again why you keep her around? I’m failing to find any redeemable qualities.”

Sara swats his arm lightly, probably thinking he’s just joking. “She’s the best, Tommy. Once you really get to know her you’ll never wanna let her go again.”

Felicity smiles warmly at the other blonde, flattered by her compliment.

“I agree,” Oliver says beside her in a low voice, almost bordering on a whisper.

She’s saved from having to react beyond the deep blush on her cheeks when the waiter arrives back at their table with a bottle of wine.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

 

The rest of the evening progressed rather smoothly, even though she couldn’t refrain herself from sending a few barbs Tommy’s way which he sometimes commented on in a very PG fashion and sometimes just ignored. By the time dessert rolled around she was actually considering the possibility that he might really be serious about Sara and didn’t just wanna use her for a roll in the sack. And even if that was his ultimate goal, she couldn’t exactly keep Sara from making the choice of going home with him.

She’d already tried to warn her about Tommy’s less than respectful behavior during their first meeting when the two women had excused themselves to the bathroom, but Sara had taken it in stride and told her that she knew what she was getting herself into. So maybe she’s just looking for the same thing? Maybe she just wants to enjoy being wooed a little bit and then be content with some rebound sex with no deeper feelings involved?

“We’re gonna head out,” Tommy announces after paying the check, standing up and holding out his hand for Sara.

“Right,” Felicity says hesitantly, but gets up, too, pulling Sara into a hug. “Are you _really_ sure about this? Dig would be really happy if he could do something other than sitting stoically at the bar. Kicking Tommy’s ass would make him super happy.” And me, too.

Sara chuckles at her almost desperate offer. “Nah, I’m good, Smoaky. Trust me, I’ll just have some fun with him tonight,” she assures her with a devious wink and pulls away. “Thanks for looking out for me. Do you need me to send Dig after _your_ boy toy?”

Felicity shakes her head at the term and chuckles. “We’re good, but thanks. Call me tomorrow?”

“I will,” Sara says and turns to Oliver. “It was nice meeting you and you seem like a decent guy, but if you hurt her, I’ll personally break your legs.”

Oliver stares after her with wide eyes as she walks away with an arm slung around a giggling Tommy.

“Ready for your ride home, Miss Smoak?” Diggle asks cheekily, suddenly appearing right next to her, knowing full well how much she despises it when he’s so formal.

“I am, Mr. Diggle,” she shoots back with a smirk and turns to Oliver. “Can we give you a ride?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” he replies with a small, hopeful smile.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

She spends the first few minutes joking around with Dig who’s in the passenger seat of the town car, letting one of his new employees drive. Oliver is quiet, but she can see his eyes darting back and forth between them, always lingering a second longer on her. And yeah, her treacherous body is totally reacting to the way his eyes move languidly across her small frame every now and then.

When her conversation with Dig dies down, she turns her body more towards him, her head tilting a little to the side while she allows herself to really look at him for the first time all week. He looks good, of course he does. But when she looks a little more closely she can see the rings under his eyes, giving away how tired he really is.

“You okay?” she asks, lifting her hand and smoothing her thumb over his temple, losing the fight of not touching him.

He basically melts into her touch, letting his eyes fall shut and exhaling a deep breath. “Long week,” he sighs, his eyes fluttering open again. “I’m sorry for shutting you out.”

“We’ll talk when we get home,” she promises, her thumb stroking soothingly over his skin.

He nods, a beautiful smile blooming on his lips. Maybe the first genuine smile all evening.

He’s about to say something when she sees bright head lights that her brain informs her are approaching way too fast. For just one second, time seems to slow to a halt and she wants to scream and warn their driver, but she doesn’t even have time to open her mouth before a massive force of power barrels into the right side of the town car, accompanied by the deafening sound of metal hitting metal at high speed. She feels her body being jerked around by the unexpected forces before everything goes black.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

She comes to with a gasp, her eyes flying open, as her body screams in agony. Her head is pounding and she’s having trouble breathing. That can’t possibly be a good sign.

She’s cold and wet, rain dripping down on her from the dark night sky. She moves gingerly, her hands scrambling for purchase but only finding cold, hard asphalt beneath her fingers. Why is she on the street?

Where are Oliver and Dig? Are they still in the car? Were they hurt in the wreck?

Despite her contacts, her eyesight is swimming with the pounding headache throbbing everywhere in her skull, making it near impossible for her to find her bearings.

A big shadow falls over her and with the little clear vision she has she can make out a burly man towering over her, dressed in all black.

Voices are finally starting to register in her brain. One is Oliver’s, the other one is also male, but with a heavy accent she can’t place.

They’re arguing, that much is clear, but while the other guy sounds almost eerily calm, Oliver sounds absolutely desperate and frantic.

“I promised you that I’d make you feel my pain,” the other man says, voice deep and menacing. “Today is the day I’ll take the person you love from you.”

“Noooo,” Oliver screams and from the corner of her eyes she can see him trying to scramble over to her. His suit is completely drenched from the rain and there’s something red on the side of his face. Oh god, is that blood?

“I always keep my promises, kid,” the other man says and lifts his hand, and suddenly she’s looking down the barrel of a gun.

Time slows down, while her brain processes what is about to happen. She vaguely hears Oliver scream her name in utter despair, still trying to close the distance between them even though they all know that he won’t get to her in time.

She closes her eyes, not wanting this stranger and his gun to be the last things she sees, so she focuses on Oliver. She remembers the first time she saw him when she stepped on the elevator. She remembers his stunned look when Arcus had snuggled up to her. She remembers his warm and comforting embrace.

And then a single gunshot rings through the cold night before everything goes quiet around her.

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	12. Chapter 12

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

The steady beat of the heart monitor echoing through the otherwise quiet hospital room is both reassuring and unnerving.

_She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive._

He has to tell himself over and over again to believe it. Even after the five hundredth time it hasn’t really sunk in. If only she’d wake up and look at him with those beautiful blue eyes and smile at him with her gorgeous smile. Maybe then he’d finally feel like he can breathe again.

This has undoubtedly been the worst 18 hours of his life. Maybe even 20 hours if he counts the stilted and pretty awkward blind date.

Had it really only been yesterday that he’d felt his breath catch in his throat when he’d realized that none other than Felicity was his spontaneous blind date in Tommy’s scheme? Because it feels like that was a lifetime ago.

Yes, it had been awkward and Tommy and Felicity had exchanged death glares and some pointed barbs every few minutes throughout the meal, but it had also been nice in a really weird. It definitely hadn’t been how he’d imagined his first public outing with Felicity would look like, but maybe this could be played off as a trial run for their real first date.

Because if there’s anything the last 18 hours have taught him, it’s that he can’t imagine a life without Felicity Smoak in it. In only three short months she’s opened up his heart and mind in a way no-one has ever done before. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fight to keep her in his life.

That revelation doesn’t erase his doubts and insecurities, though. His concern about disrupting her life with his Hollywood madness is still very real and at the forefront of his mind, as well as the lingering fear of something like last night happening again, but now he’s more determined than ever to find a way to make it work. To find a way to make it possible for them to be together.

It’s that new-found determination that has kept him awake and alert throughout the night, his ears perking up every time the heart monitor spikes even the tiniest bit or her fingers twitch in the artificially induced sleep.

The doctors had told him that they wanted to give her as much time as possible to rest after the surgery and to let her body heal, not expecting her to wake up for another two hours. That hadn’t deterred him from restlessly pacing in the private waiting lounge while she was being operated on, or from never straying more than twenty feet from her side after the nurses had wheeled her into the private room he had made sure she got.

After stretching his tired body, he plops back down into the chair he’d pulled up to her bed last night, continuing his quiet vigil by her side. Only two more hours until he can see her beautiful eyes again. He lowers his lips to their linked fingers, pressing a soft kiss against the back of her hand.

_Come on, Felicity, come back to me._

Like she’s heard his silent plea, her fingers suddenly start twitching against his. Surprised by the sudden movement, he lifts his head, watching in stunned relief as her eyelids start to flutter.

“Felicity?” he asks, his voice shaking.

She lets out a low groan, her whole body stiffening while her eyes blink open for just a second before falling shut again, fighting against the lingering effects of the anesthesia and sedatives.

God, why can’t this be like one of his movies where people wake up from surgery and are lucid within seconds? He _needs_ to know she’s okay.

It's another hour before her body finally has enough power to stay awake without being pulled back into a light slumber. Her eyes are still a bit droopy and her voice is a little slurred, but she's awake and talking and that's the most important thing.

“Hey,” she smiles weakly at him, her eyes having a hard time to focus on him without her glasses. “How long was I out?”

_Too fucking long._

He has to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat before he can answer, “About 17 hours.”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “Were you here the whole time?”

“Of course,” he assures her, squeezing her hand that is still nestled into his. “Dig was here, too, but I sent him home after you got out of surgery. He's been back to check on you a few times, but the doctors thought you'd be out for a little longer. I'm sure he'll be back in bit.” He takes a breath. “Iris and Caitlin were here earlier and I'm under strict instruction to keep them updated about your status.”

“Hmm,” she hums. “You look about as tired as I feel.”

“Don't worry about me. You're the one that got-” he stops himself before he can say 'shot', images of last night flooding his brain. Her lying on the ground, Slade towering over her with a gun pointed right at her heart.

Trembling fingertips touch his cheek, pulling him back into the present. “You were in a car wreck last night, too, and it was your side that was hit,” she reminds him gently, thumb stroking over his skin, her position mindful of the IV sticking out of her arm. “Did you let the doctors check you out at least?”

All night long, he was torn between praying that she didn't remember the horrible events that went down and _wanting_ her to remember what happened, so that he didn't have to be the one to tell her.

He nods weakly. “Yeah, nothing too bad. Cuts and scrapes here and there and some pretty nasty looking bruises on my torso. I'm okay,” he assures her.

She stares at him for a few seconds, her eyes flitting over his body, seemingly deciding if he's telling the truth. “Okay, okay, that's good,” she finally says, looking relieved. “What about Dig and the driver? God, I don't even know the new guy's name. Are they alright?”

“They're a little worse for wear, but they'll be alright. Ted has a sprained wrist and a few bruises, Dig dislocated his right shoulder, bruised a few ribs and got a mild concussion. Nothing a little time and rest won't heal.”

She lets out another relieved breath, closing her eyes now that she knows everybody will be fine.

“I should get a nurse,” he says reluctantly, not really wanting to break the connection of their hands. “They probably want to check your vitals and everything.”

“Hmmm, just a few more minutes,” she hums, her fingertips scratching lightly over his stubble, rendering him completely useless. Who's he to deny her anything right now? So instead of getting up, he scoots a little closer, letting his fingers run lightly over her wrist in a soothing rhythm.

Ten minutes later, their quiet moment of just being together and reassuring each other wordlessly that they'll be fine, is rudely interrupted by a couple of doctors for the evening rounds.

“Ah, Miss Smoak, you're awake. Right on time,” one of them says. “My name's Amanda Waller. I operated on you when you came in last night. This is my colleague Doctor Hunter. How are you feeling tonight?”

“Okay, I guess. Tired, definitely tired,” she mumbles, dropping her hand from Oliver's cheek.

“Well, that’s normal and to be expected,” Doctor Waller assures her. “Mr. Queen, could I kindly ask you to leave, so Doctor Hunter and I can do a full check-up on Ms. Smoak and see if everything is healing according to plan and so a nurse can change bandages?”

For a split second Felicity's fingers tighten around his, but then she relaxes and searches his gaze. “Go. I'll be okay.”

He wants to protest, argue that he could stay in the room and just turn around, but the silent plea in her eyes is enough to dissuade him. “Alright, I'll go grab a coffee.”

He's about to stand up when her hand shoots out again. “Wait,” she says, turning towards the doctors. “Can we have a moment, please?”

The two doctors nod and file out of the room, leaving them alone once more. Felicity looks around and grabs her glasses when she spots them on the bedside table next to her phone. She looks back up at him and sighs, “I think you should go home.”

“What?” he exclaims. “No!”

“Oliver.” Just the simple mention of his name lets him calm down. “Excuse my bluntness, but you look like hell.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh?”

“You still look handsome, of course,” she backtracks. “You always do, but right now you also kinda look like something the cat dragged in. Go home, get some rest and recharge your batteries. I’m sure your body will thank you later.”

“Right.” He wants to stay with her, damnit!

Her hand tightens around his wrist, pulling him closer so she can thread her fingers through his. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that you stayed with me through the night and that you were here when I woke up.”

He wants to protest, say that it was nothing and that he’d do anything for her, but she cuts him off before he can open his mouth.

“I’m okay,” she assures him or maybe she’s trying to assure herself, because there’s a little tremor in her voice. “Well, actually I’m so hopped up on pain meds that I don’t feel anything, but at least the doctors didn’t look or sound too worried. Either way, there’s nothing you can do at this point. Except for going home and getting a decent amount of sleep and some food and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.”

He smiles weakly at her. “Are you sure? Do you at least want me to call Cait or Iris?”

“I’ll text them once I’m done with the check up,” she promises. “Honestly, I think I’ll pass out again after the docs are through with me. Whatever drugs they’re giving are pretty strong.”

“Okay,” he agrees very reluctantly. “But you call me if you need anything, alright?”

She nods gingerly, pressing her lips together. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” he replies with hesitation.

She starts playing with his fingers, nervously squeezing them. “When you go home and your brain has some distance and time to process what happened last night…” she trails of, struggling for a way to articulate her thoughts. “I mean, I’m not actually a hundred percent sure I understand what happened, but I do know that it was personal for you… and for him.”

Her hand starts to tremble in his and he can’t do anything other than helplessly stare at her. “Just… please don’t make any rash decision about… me… _us_ ,” she chokes out. “Don’t run and shut me out again.”

He takes a hasty step back, his hand disconnecting from hers. How does she do this? How does she look past all the walls he puts up and stares right into his soul?

There’d been moments throughout the night, before he’d decided to stay and fight for her, when he had thought about running. For his sake and hers. She was in a car crash and then _shot_ because of him, because of his reckless behavior. She almost _died_ because of him.

“Promise me, Oliver,” she urges him, a tear rolling down her cheek. “ _Please_.”

“Ms. Smoak, are you ready for your check-up,” Doctor Waller chimes from the door, clearly losing her patience.

Felicity keeps looking at him, never averting her watery eyes. “Oliver.”

 _She’s alive,_ he reminds himself forcefully. _She’s alive and she still wants you in her life. And_ you _will do anything to make sure she’s safe and happy!_

He steps closer until his thigh hits her bed, cupping her face with both hands and bending down until their noses are almost touching.

“I promise,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster, bringing his lips up to her forehead, so he can press a lingering kiss against her skin. “I promise, Felicity.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW ⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 

A soft knock on her door wakes her from her light slumber and it takes her a few seconds to realize where she is while the door opens to reveal Dig.

“Hey, boss,” he greets her with a small grin. She wants to reciprocate his grin, but she can’t help the pang of guilt that shoots through her when she sees a big band aid on his forehead and his right arm secured in a sling against his torso.

“Hey,” she says, pleased to hear that her voice is a little steadier than earlier.

Dig gingerly sits down in the chair previously occupied by Oliver, leaning back with a little wince. “How’re you holding up?”

She shrugs, “They’ve pumped me full of pain meds, so I don’t really know. I’m still kinda floaty and everything feels a little dull.”

Dig hums in agreement. “Yeah, they break out the good stuff for gunshot wounds.”

“Right,” she winces at the reminder of why she's here. “How’re you doing? Oliver told me you got banged up pretty good.”

A ghost of a smile runs over her friend’s face. “You know me, I’m a tough nut to crack and I’ve had much worse. I’ll be good as new in no time,” he assures her. “So where is Oliver? I’m surprised I caught you alone.”

“I sent him home.”

Dig’s eyebrows rise in silent question.

“He looked like death warmed over,” she explains with a sigh. “I told him to get some rest.”

“And he listened?” he asks incredulously. “I must’ve told him the same thing about twenty times.”

She blushes at the insinuation that she holds more power over him. “Not without putting up a fight.”

He chuckles good-naturedly. “Yeah, I figured. I barely got him to eat while you were out.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“He is,” Dig agrees with a soft smile.

“Have you talked to Curtis? The reception in here is pretty crappy, so I haven’t been able to do more than get a few texts out,” she suddenly asks, wondering if news of her accident has reached her company. How are they going to explain all of this? The gunshot wound in her shoulder makes it blaringly obvious that this wasn’t an ordinary car accident, so how are they going to explain what happened without prompting a whole barrage of questions about Oliver’s involvement.

“I have,” Dig sighs. “And I’ve talked to Laurel. She’s been NDA-ing the shit out of everybody who’s been involved to make sure nobody sells the story to make a quick buck. So far, so good. Right now all they know is that there was a car crash with varying degrees of injuries, no word about you or Oliver being there.” He suddenly chuckles, “Plus, right now, every last media outlet is pretty busy with Tommy Merlyn’s latest scandal.”

“Wait, what?” Tommy? What could he have possibly done in the last twenty hours?

“Oh, you know, just your typical nude photo leak, plus a few very candid videos,” he grins. “And the weirdest thing is they were apparently all sent straight from his own phone to every editor-in-chief in the city. I’ll spare you the details because what I’ve seen has scarred me for life and I love you too much to do that to you, but I’ll just say this: boy doesn’t have all that much going on in the size department and the media is absolutely loving it.”

“This happened last night?” she asks with wide eyes, a suspicion dawning on her.

“Yup.”

“Sara,” she breathes out, before a full on laugh bubbles from her lips. “That’s why she went home with him. To get revenge for being a lying, little prick.” She halts and considers her words before bellowing out a laugh, “Quite literally apparently.”

Diggle laughs along, but winces and holds his uninjured hand over his ribs. “Oh no, don’t make me laugh, Smoak.”

“Sorry,” she giggles, suddenly glad that her pain meds are sparing her from her own bruised ribs. “I’ll have to call her and get the full story tomorrow.”

He agrees, chuckling carefully and they fall into a comfortable silence that’s only interrupted by a few more of her gleeful giggles.

She hadn’t quite understood why Sara hadn’t high-tailed it out of the restaurant after finding out that Tommy had lied about his identity, let alone why she’d actually left with him at the end of the night. Now it all makes sense. She’d very much listened to Felicity’s warnings and had decided to exact a little revenge for his dishonesty and general dick-ness. Go, girl!

“Speaking of calling people,” he starts. “I already knew that you put me down as your emergency contact, but we never really talked about what I should do in case you were ever seriously injured, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to call your mom or not.”

“Oh, right,” she groans. “I don’t really want to worry her, to be honest. You know how she can get when she fusses over me, I don’t need that right now. I think I’ll call her in a couple of days when I’m better and tell her about the accident, but not…” she trails of, a thoughtful frown marring her forehead. “Not about being shot.”

Diggle lets out a long sigh and sits up a straight, the previous mirth disappearing from his big brown eyes. “I guess now you’re up for a more serious talk?” he asks gently, and she knows she could say no and he’d let her off the hook without a comment, but she can’t say no, not with all these questions in her head.

“You know me too well,” she hums, conceding to the fact that she probably can’t fall asleep if she doesn’t finally get some answers. Oliver had barely given her anything, and she’d tried to steer away from the burning questions on her brain when she’d seen the pure anguish on his face, knowing that he wasn’t ready to share.

“I do know that you hate mysteries, and right now you probably don’t have enough of the puzzle pieces to work out where we’re at,” her friend says with an indulgent smile.

She nods her agreement. “I remember the crash and waking up on the ground with a gun pointed at me,” she recounts. “He was yelling at Oliver. Something about revenge.”

“Slade Wilson,” Dig fills in the blank. “He’s a producer who worked with Oliver a while back. Something happened,” he shakes his head. “But that’s Oliver’s story to tell. Bottom line is that he wanted to hurt Oliver by hurting you.”

_“Today is the day I’ll take the person you love from you.”_

He thought _she_ was the person Oliver loves, she realizes with a frown.

She inhales a shaky breath, trying to gather her bearings. “There was a gunshot,” she says. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

Dig runs his uninjured hand over his head. “It’s all a bit of a blur for me, too. Everything happened so fast and I was just coming to when it got serious,” he admits. “One second, I see you lying there on the ground with a gun pointed at you and I’m sure there’s no way this’ll end well, and then the next second, Oliver tackles Slade just when the gun goes off.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“I have no idea how he did it. He was too far away. He _shouldn’t_ have been able to get there in time, but _somehow_ he did. I don’t know if adrenaline hit him so hard that it set free an almost inhuman power in him or if my mind was just playing tricks on me with the low light and pouring rain. I’ve seen people do extraordinary things in impossible situations while I was in Afghanistan, but nothing like this.”

A shudder runs down her back, realizing just how narrowly she’d avoided certain death. “And then?”

“Wilson’s gun was knocked away and as soon as they both hit the ground they started throwing punches. I saw Oliver take a few nasty ones to the ribs, but somehow he landed a couple of good ones against Wilson’s head, knocking him out,” Dig explains, still a look of disbelief etched into his features. “Oliver scrambled to your side and I was just managing to stand up when Wilson started moving again. He grabbed a gun from his ankle holster and pointed it straight at the two of you, so I shot him.”

His voice is cold and free of any emotions when he finishes, stealing Felicity’s breath for a second. She’s never seen him like this, so detached and distant and with so much hatred in his eyes, staring off into nothingness.

She doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to confirm the cold, hard truth that one of her closest friends had to kill another human being because of her.

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she finally asks, “Is he dead?”

Dig turns his gaze to hers, eyes visibly softening and some tension leaving his face. “No,” he shakes his head. “He lost a lot of blood, but the EMTs were able to resuscitate him on the scene. He was operated on last night, but is still in a coma in the ICU. From what I’ve heard, they don’t expect him to make it through the next 48 hours. There’s just too much damage.”

“Dig,” she breathes out, choking on the sole syllable. “I’m so sor-“

“No,” he cuts her off vehemently. “Don’t apologize for that piece of shit, Felicity.” His voice is hard as steel again. “He was going to kill you. There was _no_ choice to make.”

“But…”

He shakes his head vigorously, taking her hand into his. “It’s my job to protect you, Felicity. Not just because you pay me to do so, but because you’re my best friend and I’d go through hell for you. If keeping you safe and _alive_ means that I’ll have to live with one more kill on my conscience, I’ll deal with it,” he assures her. “This wasn’t my first kill and maybe not my last. Sometimes there is no other way. Don’t you dare blame yourself for my actions, Felicity. I’m a soldier; this is what we’re trained to do.”

She looks at him in doubt. How can he be okay with this? He chose to take someone else’s life in order to save hers. _But that’s why you hired him_ , she reminds herself. _To keep you safe from any threats on your life._ But what makes her life more valuable than others’?

“I knew what I was signing up for,” he continues when she stays silent, too lost in her own guilt to say anything. “Apart from losing a client, killing is the worst part about the job, but it _is_ part of the job. I made a decision and I’ll deal with the consequences. I’ve done it before.”

“I never thought…” she croaks out, not sure what she wants to say. She never thought he’d ever have to kill for her? She never thought she’d ever be in actual physical danger? She never thought that he’d ever have to do more than just be there and make her feel safe? God, how naïve has she been all this time?

“But _I_ did,” he tells her with a reassuring squeeze to her fingers.

In the end, it’s his eyes that make her believe him. She can see conviction and certainty there, knowing that he did what he had to do, but there’s also pain and sorrow, showing that he's not just brushing this off and that it _is_ weighing him down. He _is_ a soldier and he's made a decision, knowing full well what that would do to him.

“Thank you, John,” she whispers, squeezing his fingers in gratitude. “Thank you.” For being there. For keeping me safe. For making the tough decisions. For everything.

His lips quirk up in a soft, knowing smile. “You’re welcome, Felicity.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

She's finally allowed to go home two days later, and it’s about fucking time because she’s going absolutely stir-crazy in her –admittedly quite spacious— private hospital room. The internet connection is basically non-existent which means she doesn’t even have access to Netflix and is limited to shitty daytime TV. You’d think that a high-tech place like one of the leading hospital’s in the country would have a decent Wi-Fi connection. It doesn’t.

She hadn’t lacked visitors, of course, cutting down most of her potential TV time. Iris and Cait had spent almost the entire Sunday with her, even succeeding in convincing her nurses to let them wheel her around the hospital in a wheelchair for a little while. It’s not like her legs have suffered any damage, so the wheelchair seemed like absolute overkill, but Felicity hadn’t dared to argue, beyond happy to get out of the room in the first place.

They’d ventured to the cafeteria that actually had some decent food and coffee which they’d all been quite glad about. Her friends had kept her updated on what was happening out in the real world. The media was only slowly letting go of the big Tommy Merlyn nude pics and sex tapes story, finally focusing back on actually important things, but there was still no special mention of the accident. Felicity made a mental note to give Laurel a raise for keeping everything under wraps.

Dig had stopped by a few times, and even Sara had visited last night with the biggest shit-eating grin of all time. With way too much mischievousness she’d recounted her night with Tommy, being so colorful in her description of the situation that Felicity had laughed so hard she had almost torn her stitches.

None of her friends had spoken about why she was in the hospital, though. None of them asked any questions about what had happened. She wasn’t sure if Diggle had briefed them and told them about everything so they wouldn’t have to ask her or if they were just giving her time and letting her decide when to tell them.

But how is she supposed to tell them what happened when she still doesn’t quite understand it herself? Sure, she knows _what_ happened, thanks to Dig filling in the gaps for her, but she still doesn't know _why_.

The only person that can tell her that has been stoically quiet about the whole ordeal. Oliver had stayed true to his word and had stopped by frequently after getting some much needed rest himself. He'd never come empty-handed, always bringing along flowers, some cheesy stuffed animal, or –her personal favorite— various goodies from her favorite bakery. Like he’d promised her, he’d been there, not running away, but at the same time he’d seemed a million miles away.

More than once she'd caught him staring off into the void, thoughtful frown etched into his forehead. He’d always played it off as him still being tired, but she’d just known that his mind had been a few floors beneath them where Slade Wilson was lying in the ICU, fighting for his life.

So in a way, despite his promise, he’d still shut her out and _that_ had really pissed her off, even more than the shitty internet connection.

She needed answers! She got _shot,_ for fuck’s sake. Didn’t she at least have the right to know _why_?

Apparently not, because Oliver remained quiet about it, steering the conversation away from the topic of the accident whenever they got even remotely close to it.

Huh, broody and closed off Oliver, when had she seen that before? Oh, right, last week… she’s still waiting for _that_ explanation, as well.

With an annoyed huff she turns the key in the lock and enters her apartment. Home! Finally!

Not waiting to see if Broody McBrooderson is following her, she walks into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of plates from the cupboard which proves surprisingly difficult with only one hand. _Oh wow, that’ll take getting used to_ , she thinks, glaring down at her useless left arm that’s held in place against her stomach by a sling. At least she got shot in the left shoulder and not her right. Huh, is she really ready to joke about the whole thing?

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asks when she hears his approaching footsteps.

They'd stopped by DiMario’s on their way home, but she’d stayed in the car while Oliver had quickly run in to grab takeout, so she’s not actually sure if he ordered for two or not.

“Only if you don’t mind,” he replies, and she can almost hear him wringing his fingers nervously. Has she mentioned how much she hates this weird distance between them?

She whirls around, frowning. “Why would I mind?”

“Uh, you know, I thought maybe you wanted to be alone after having almost constant visitors for the past two days,” he answers hesitantly. “I don’t wanna bother you.”

She barely suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at his whimsical excuse to leave, suddenly fed up with his behavior. “You know what? I don’t care,” she blurts out, watching in satisfaction as his eyes widen in shock. “Stay, leave, do whatever the hell you want. That’s what you’ll do anyway. That's what you have been doing.”

“Felicity…”

“Oh, don’t ‘Felicity’ me with those stupid puppy dog eyes of yours. If you want to stay, go ahead and stay, but if you do, I expect some answers from you. No more skirting around the subject. It's been days,” she says, getting dangerously close to her loud voice. “I'm not gonna wait for those answers until you’re back from press tour. I can't.”

He sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “I’m not-“

“You're not _what_?” she interrupts him. “You’re not _ready_? Guess what? I wasn’t ready to be fucking _shot_.”

He visibly flinches back, eyes widening in shock, mouth hanging slightly open.

“I’m done,” she says, only then realizing how true those words really are. “I’m just so done with this whole shit with you.”

She takes a step forward, chest rising and falling painfully against her battered ribs. “I’ve just had the shittiest week of my life, which is saying something if you remember what Cooper did to me all those years ago,” she grits out, coming to a halt only two feet in front of him. “First, I let you convince me to go to that goddamn party with your parents, who fucking hate me, then I meet my asshole ex who almost killed me six years ago, then I have one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever had.” She's breathing even heavier now. “Then my mother drops by announced, blabbering on about unimportant shit like shoes and her slutty dresses, and keeping me from tracking down Cooper. And then _you_ decide to stop talking to me for whatever reason.

“And that’s not even the cherry on top of this really fucked up proverbial sundae. No,” she growls, “because then I go on a double blind date with –as it turns out— your asshole best friend who insulted me within five minutes of meeting me, and Mr. I-ignore-all-your-texts-and-calls himself.”

He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as hers, his eyes filled with a myriad of emotions, but she can’t stop to pity him right now.

“And then I'm in a car crash and I get _shot_ , Oliver,” she presses on, jabbing her index finger into his left shoulder, in the same spot where the bullet hit her and he almost crumbles under her touch. “I almost died. I _actually_ thought I was going to die, Oliver. For the second time in my life, I was lying on the cold, hard ground, in the pouring rain and I was _sure_ I was going to die. And this time I didn’t even know _why_.

“I get that you needed time and I gave it to you, I didn’t push you to talk, but I’m done. It’s been _days_ , and you haven’t even tried to talk to me. And now, I’m done waiting. Now, I need answers. Because I can’t move on, I can’t _heal_ without knowing why this man crashed into my car and pointed a gun at my heart, fully intent on killing me only to hurt _you_.”

He takes a hasty step back, shaking his head desperately, but she can’t back down now. “Why does he hate you so much, Oliver? What happened that made him willing to kill someone to make you suffer?”

“I can’t…” he stammers, eyes wide in panic. “I need time.”

“You _had_ time,” she yells, willing her heart to ignore his desperate look. “So you can either start talking or you can get the fuck out of my apartment. My life is messed up as it is right now, I don’t need to pile onto that with your mess.”

“Felicity.” Her name is only a broken word now.

“I can’t look at you, Oliver. Every time I do, I’m back there in that goddamn street, looking down the barrel of his gun. Every time I look into your eyes I see the same panic I saw that night. And I can’t do it anymore. I don’t _want_ to do it anymore, because it just keeps tearing me apart.” Her voice finally cracks on the last word, eyes brimming with angry tears.

“No, please, Felicity,” he whispers, taking a step towards her now. “Now’s not the time. I have to leave tomorrow for the overseas premieres. Don’t make me dump this on you and leave,” he practically begs.

She takes a cautious step back, maybe for the first time ever needing more space between them. “I need answers. I need to know. Talk to me.”

“I…” he looks at her helplessly. He just has to open his damn mouth and start talking! “I can’t. You told me that I could take my time and talk to you when I’m ready. And I’m _not_ ready.”

She frowns, wracking her tired brain, trying to remember what he’s referring to. She'd told him that after the first Tommy debacle when he’d hinted at something bad happening in his past that had prompted him to change. _Something bad_ , that’s what Dig had said about Oliver and Slade’s past. Are they both the same thing? Is whatever prompted Oliver to change the same reason why Slade hates him so much?

She shakes her head, her brain buzzing with the new tidbit of information. “Yes, I did. But that was _before_. That was before your past came back to haunt you _and_ me. That was before I got shot because you fucked something up,” she yells, knowing that this could be a make or break moment.

He reels back from her, looking like she’d just punched him in the gut. Guilt and pain are mixing in his eyes and she knows that he’ll shut down in a second.

“Talk to me, Oliver,” she almost begs, but he just shakes his head, backing further away. "Help me heal. Help me understand." 

He doesn't. Once again, he's deciding to stay silent. And it's the last fucking straw.

She lets out a resigned sigh, steeling herself for her next words. “Then leave,” she whispers. “I can't do this. I’m done. _We’re_ done.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	13. Chapter 13

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Work is good. Work keeps her mind occupied with thoughts of strings of code, budget reviews and progress reports. But most importantly, work keeps her mind off Oliver Queen.

Mostly.

Not completely, though.

The thought of him is annoyingly persistent, immediately taking over her brain whenever there’s even the smallest lull in work-related thoughts.

She keeps replaying their last conversation over and over again. She'd cracked so hard that night. After keeping all of her feelings and emotions in for three days, she’d completely lost her grip and had gone off of him, trying to force answers out of him.

It hadn’t worked, of course, and now the mere thought of Oliver’s desperate and panicked eyes is enough to bring tears to her own. She'd pushed him hard, hoping to get him to crack, but she’d pushed too hard too soon, and he’d just shut down. And then in a moment of complete frustration and disappointment, she’d pushed him out of her life.

“Lis,” a joyful voice calls out, making her scramble to blink her tears away. “We stopped by your apartment, should’ve known that you’d bury yourself at work.”

She turns around in her chair, facing her two best friends with what she hopes is a believable smile. “Hey, you two,” she greets them, annoyed to hear her own voice cracking.

“We brought dinner,” Caitlin says, holding up two bags of Big Belly Burger. “How about a break?”

Felicity stares down at her screen, only then realizing how late it has gotten. “Yeah, I’m done for the night. Let me just power everything down.”

After securing her babies and a feeble attempt to stack the numerous files scattered across her desk, she joins her friend who are setting up their food in the little couch/sitting area in the corner of her office.

“Working on anything interesting?” Iris asks around a french fry.

She shrugs carefully, mindful of her injury. “There’s always something interesting going on around here, I’m just trying to stay on top of things.”

“How’s the shoulder?” Cait asks the more pressing question.

“Stitches came out a couple of days ago and now I’ve got physical therapy sessions every other morning. Docs are certain I’ll have my full range of motion back in no time. Just gotta take it slow for now. At least, I’m back to typing with two hands.”

“And how are _you_ holding up?” Iris asks gently, all three of them knowing that she means her emotional state.

Felicity sighs, buying herself some time by biting into her burger and chewing it slowly. “I’m… okay,” she answers eventually. “Just got a lot to think about.”

From the corner of her eyes she can see her friends exchange a look. Oh great, they're teaming up on her. “Are you thinking about Oliver?”

Suddenly not hungry anymore, she sets down her barely touched burger, wiping her greasy hands on the napkin in her lap. “Among other things,” she concedes reluctantly.

“Have you talked to him?”

“Nope,” Felicity replies curtly. “Haven’t heard from him.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Iris asks carefully.

Felicity scoffs, shrugging her shoulders. “Shouldn’t I be glad that for once a man accepts that ‘no’ actually means ‘no’ and that he's respecting my wishes?”

“But was it really your wish to cut him out of your life completely?” Cait questions, putting a calming hand on her friend’s knee.

“No,” Felicity admits with a sigh. “But it doesn’t change the fact that he actively refused to explain everything to me. After that I just lost control over my reaction.”

“So you regret what you said?” Great, they’re back to exchanging worried looks.

“Not necessarily _what_ I said, but definitely _how_ I said it,” Felicity concedes. “I should’ve handled the situation differently. I shouldn’t have put him on the spot like that. If he had done that to force information on my past with Cooper out of me, I would’ve shut down, too.”

“But those are two different situations, sweetie,” Iris reminds her. “ _He_ didn't get seriously hurt because of your past.”

“I know,” she whispers. “But I still miss him.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Cait breathes out.

“I didn’t even realize how big of a part of my life he's become until suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. And now it’s been two weeks and I just miss talking to him and hanging out with him and Arcus, and texting him throughout the day. I don’t know how many times I’ve picked up the phone when something funny or weird happened, because I wanted to tell him about it, just to realize that I couldn’t.”

“You still can,” Iris assures her. “You’ll just have to make the first move, because it doesn't look like he wants to disrespect your wishes and do the romance movie thing where he just doesn't let up until you cave in. He needs a sign from you that you still want him.”

Damn it, this is getting frustrating. She knows that her friends are right, that she has to make the first move, but how?

“It's just that any first move from me would come with a caveat,” she sighs in frustration. “As much as I want him back in my life, I don’t think I could be around him again without knowing the full story, without him telling me about Slade and their history. Without getting some closure. And I don’t want to make that ultimatum again. I don’t want that to be a condition for us to be friends, but I also can’t not know.”

God, this is getting confusing.

She wants him in her life, but only if he explains everything to her.

She wants him to explain everything to her, but doesn't want to make that brutal ultimatum again.

She doesn’t want to make an ultimatum, but knows that without an explanation she can’t move on.

Shit, this is all just so fucked up.

Why couldn’t he have just told her that night? Everything would be so much easier if he had just told her.

“The two of you need to talk,” Iris points out like it's the easiest thing in the world. “I’m _not_ saying it’ll be easy or without pain. You’ll both have to be willing to make compromises. You might have to accept that he needs a little more time to share his past with you, and he needs to accept that he has to tell you pretty soon to help you understand and heal.”

Caitlin nods beside her, squeezing Felicity’s knee again in a silent show of comfort. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look so good. You’ve been doing what you always do when you're running away from something: you bury yourself in work and shut the world out. It's nowhere near as bad as after the hacker attack, but it’s enough to have us worried. Add that to the fact that you’re still recovering from a car crash and a gunshot wound, it’s a miracle your body hasn’t crashed yet.”

“And just FYI,” Iris throws in, “you’re not the only one that seems to feel like shit. I’ve seen some of Oliver’s interviews and even though he usually masks it pretty well, you can see the sadness in his eyes, especially when one of the interviewers asks him if he's seeing anyone. It's like for a second he shuts down completely, before giving a generic, monotone answer. I have no idea how that boy has won so many awards if he can’t even manage to hide how much he’s suffering right now.”

Felicity swallows hard at hearing that new piece of information. She's consciously avoided every and any news regarding Oliver, knowing that with all the international premieres of his new movie, that is already receiving a fair amount of Oscar buzz,there’d be a plethora of interviews, photos and articles of him all over the media.

“Look,” Cait says into the silence. “When the time comes, you’ll do what you think is right and whatever you decide, we’ll support that decision.”

“Definitely,” Iris confirms, clapping her hands together. “Now how about we eat up and get out of here? You’re finally off antibiotics and I think we could all use a drink right about now. And then our dear Cait can tell us a little more about her new colleague and potential crush object.”

Caitlin glares at her friend, but Iris just laughs it off gleefully.

Yes, drinks are good! The three of them haven’t been out in way too long and it sounds like just the right thing to help her take her mind off Oliver for a little while. Take her mind off of what she should do. She wants to save her friendship with Oliver. She wants him back in her life. But will she be able to let him back in without knowing the full story of Slade and why he tried to kill her?

God, she needs to make an appointment with her therapist.

But first: drinks with her best friends!

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** ARROW **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

  

He feels drained of all energy.

This is not the biggest press tour he's had to do, his bigger action movies surpassing the number of press junket days and international premieres by far, but still, this two week tour has taken a toll on him. He could easily blame it on getting older or on not having Tommy there to party his way through all the different cities, but he’d only be lying to himself. The only reason why he feels so exhausted and drained is because of how he left things with Felicity.

They’d come to an abrupt impasse.

Or maybe not so abrupt. He should’ve seen it coming. Over the weekend after the crash, Felicity had been uncharacteristically quiet around him. Yes, they’d still talked, but not like they usually would. She'd been more lost in thought, sometimes just looking at him with questioning, silently pleading eyes, patiently waiting for him to start talking about the elephant in the room. But he hadn’t.

So, really, it had just been a matter of time until the emotional pressure got too high and she snapped. And snap she did.

He'd never seen her so furious before. Never so frustrated and desperate to get an answer out of him.

She'd waited for him to come to her and tell her on his own volition for days and when he hadn't come through, she'd gone and demanded answers from him.

A part of him wants to be appalled at the idea of her trampling over his own feelings and straight up commanding him to share one of the worst experiences of his life with her, but he can't. Even if his still reeling mind back then didn’t see it the same way, now he has to admit that yes, she does have a right to demand those answers.

No matter how much the talking about the past hurts him, it has hurt her way worse. She deserves to know why she was targeted by Slade and why she was in a situation where she almost lost her life.

Hindsight is 20/20.

Of course, she'd seen through his feeble excuse of not wanting to dump this on her and then just leave on the press tour. He'd been grasping for straws at that point, trying to think of anything to keep him from having to talk about how he’d completely fucked up.

If only he had opened his mouth and manned the fuck up.

“This seat taken?” a female voice rips him out of his depressing thoughts, reminding him that he's not in the privacy of his hotel room right now.

He looks up, finding himself face-to-face with a leggy brunette, smiling at him widely. “It's free,” he replies with a forced smirk, turning back to his cup of coffee.

“Shouldn’t you be with a few hundred screaming fans and watching your movie right now?” the brunette asks, while motioning to a waitress.

“Do we know each other?”

Don’t get irritated, Oliver.

“We’ve met a few times. I’m a journalist for the Starling City Gazette,” she replies with a sugary smile. “Had the pleasure of interviewing you for some of your previous movies.”

“Ah, sorry, I meet so many people during these press junkets, it's hard to keep up,” Oliver apologizes and hopes that he sounds somewhat sincere. He just wants to be alone.

“Samantha Clayton,” she introduces herself, obviously not picking up on his standoff-ish behavior, or simply ignoring it.

“Right, nice to meet you again, but if you want an interview, you’ll have to go through my publicist.”

“I don’t want an interview,” she assures him, laying her hand on his forearm. “Just saw you sitting here all by yourself and thought I’d keep you company.”

Her fingers trail up and down his arm, leaving no room for interpretation on how exactly she’d like to keep him company. And for just a split second he considers it. She's attractive and he hasn’t slept with anyone in far too long.

As soon as the thought runs through his brain, he's disgusted with himself. There’s only one woman he wants to be with, and a meaningless one night stand won’t change the ache in his chest. It won’t make him feel better. Only being back with Felicity will.

Almost like she knows that he’d considered sleeping with another woman, his phone suddenly lights up with a text from Felicity.

**Hey, how’s the tour going? Hope you're okay. -F**

To say that he's stunned is an understatement, his eyes darting to her name again and again to make sure that the text really came from her.

She's talking to him.

After two weeks of no communication whatsoever between them, after essentially telling him that their friendship was over, she's talking to him.

He swallows down the bout of panic that is threatening to take him over. Does he answer right away? Does he just give her a short answer or a long one? Would that seem too desperate? Why did she write him now? Did something happen? Are there complications with her recovery?

Shit! He needs to find out more.

“Oliver?” Samantha breaks through his suddenly overwhelmed mind. “I asked if you wanted to come to my room later tonight.”

“What?” he asks dumbly, tearing his eyes away from his phone screen. “No, no, I don’t. Coffee’s on me. Nice to meet you,” he says and gets up quickly almost knocking over his chair, throwing a small mountain of banknotes on the table. “Have a nice day.”

He races to the elevator, just narrowly avoiding bumping into an elderly couple in his haste to get back to his hotel room.

He doesn’t wanna come on too strong via text, asking her all the questions that are on his mind, but he needs answers. Who can he call to find out if everything is okay with her? Caitlin and Iris are out of the question. They definitely won’t talk to him. That only leaves Diggle.

But can he really call Felicity’s trusted bodyguard and confidante? Or rather, would Diggle actually talk to him? They had bonded over their shared concern for Felicity during her time in the hospital, so _maybe_ he has a chance to get some information from him.

He mulls over his limited possibilities for another half hour before he finally picks up his phone and taps on Diggle’s contact. Here goes nothing.

He picks up after a few rings. “Oliver? This is a surprise.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Hi, Dig,” he says, hoping the connection masks how breathless and nervous he sounds. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, sure. How’s it going, man?”

“You know, just dealing with press and stuff. It's quite repetitive.”

“I bet it is,” the other man laughs. “So what do you want to know? I’m sure you didn’t just call to have a friendly chat with me.”

Busted.

Oliver scratches the back of his head nervously. “I… uh… I got a text from Felicity earlier and I’m not sure what to do.”

“Ahh, I see,” Dig sighs and it sounds like he's sitting down. “And instead of just texting her, you call me. What do you want to know?”

“Is she okay?” Oliver asks eagerly, glad that the older man doesn’t question his motives further.

Diggle sighs again. “She's… healing. Her recovery is going according to plan. She's got her stitches removed and started PT. For the most part, she's keeping herself busy with work.”

Oliver lets out a sigh of relief, the knowledge that she’s starting to get better easing his heavy heart. “How is she dealing with everything? Has she been going to see her therapist?”

“Look, man,” Dig says. “I’m willing to give you some information because I know how much you care about her, but there’s a line I’m not going to cross. Her mental health is on the other side of that line. If you want to know about that, you’ll have to ask her.”

“Right.”

“I’ll ask you this, though: how do _you_ think she’s dealing?” Dig questions. “She was shot because of something that happened in your past and you haven’t told her anything about it. You do the math.”

Shit.

She'd said it herself that night. She _needs_ to know why everything happened in order to heal.

And he’s withholding that last puzzle piece from her. Fuck!

“Do you know why she texted me tonight? Did something happen?” he asks instead of commenting Dig’s argument.

He can almost hear the other man shake his head in frustration at his stubbornness. “She had a talk and a night out with Cait and Iris.”

Oh. Shit, so maybe she’d only texted him because she was drunk. Or maybe her friends had stolen her phone again while she wasn’t looking. They’ve done it before, who says they didn’t do it again?

“She wasn’t drunk or tipsy, Oliver,” Dig assures him, probably sensing his hesitance. “Look, I overheard them talking earlier in her office and it sounded like the others gave her quite a bit to think about. Maybe she felt like it was time.”

“So you think I should text her back?” he asks, hope bubbling up in his chest.

“I swear I’m not getting paid enough to deal with this high school shit,” Diggle grumbles. “I can’t tell you what to do, Oliver. You’ll have to make that decision on your own. She made the first move, now it’s up to you to decide to find out if you're all in or if you're out. Just don’t lead her on. Only contact her if you know for sure that you're all in or I swear I’ll find you and break your legs. You _know_ that she expects answers from you. If you’re not willing or able to give her any, then you will only end up hurting her more. And we both know she's been hurt enough times already.”

He lets the older man’s warning words sink in for a minute, knowing without a doubt that he’s right. He'd already said the same thing more than a month ago when he'd revealed that he’d dug up what happened in LA.

_I think you should tell her. Not today, not tomorrow, but before you take your relationship to the next level. You know you can trust her. And I really think you should give her a little more credit. All she'll ever want from you is for you to be open and honest with her._

“Thank you for the advice, Dig,” Oliver breathes out, knowing what he needs to do. “I really appreciate it.”

“You take care of yourself, Oliver. See you soon.”

Falling back against the sofa, Oliver feels like his brain is about to explode. He's going to tell her. For the first time since that fateful night almost one and a half years ago, he's going to tell someone. That is, if she’s even willing to listen.

But maybe her text message means that she really does still want him in her life. God, he prays that she still wants him in her life. The last two weeks without her have been miserable and bleak and he just wants to go home and see her again.

When he’d first moved to Hollywood he’d gotten the first taste of what it meant to miss someone. Back then, he'd missed his parents, even though they’d basically kicked him out, but most of all he’d missed his little sister, and he would never forgive himself for letting his differences with his parents get in the way of being there for her and seeing her grow up.

But this? Not having Felicity in his life is taking the concept of missing someone to a whole new level.

He misses her smile and the way she laughs when he tells a stupid joke, her twinkling eyes whenever he cooks something for her, that little moan when she takes a bite of one of his desserts. He misses watching her get down on the floor, playing with Arcus or simply lying on the ground with his dog’s big head resting on her stomach while she pets him and babbles on about her day even though his dog obviously doesn’t understand what she’s saying.

He misses her rambles and her funny text messages throughout the day and the pretty regular occasion when they’d start a GIF war in the middle of the work day. He misses the late night talks over red wine and ice cream, and falling asleep on the couch. He just misses _her_ , like he's never missed anyone before.

With shaking hands he picks up his phone, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. What does he tell her? How does he start? How does he convey everything he wants to tell her in a text?

He can’t.

Taking a steadying breath, he closes the text message and taps on the phone icon, hesitating for just a second before starting the call. He can hear his heart thumping in his chest as he waits for her to pick up.

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW** **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

The night out with her friends had been quite eye-opening for her. They’d shared their opinions on the whole Oliver situation and had given her a new perspective that she could work with.

Their night hadn’t turned into one of their more raunchy night’s out. With all three of them having to work the next day, they’d just grabbed a couple of drinks and talked about more uplifting things like Caitlin’s new colleague Barry that she may or may not have the hots for. It had been a fun night that had lifted her spirits. Only when Diggle had dropped her off at home at around 10 had she realized how much she had needed to go out and have some fun again.

Deciding to get a late start tomorrow morning after having put in way too many hours this past week, she fires off a quick text to Thea to see if she can borrow Arcus for his morning walk. She misses that big ball of furry happiness. Thea, who’s been looking after her brother’s dog and living in his apartment, writes back quickly and is more than happy to let her do the walking.

The youngest Queen had stopped by her place multiple times throughout the past two weeks, always bringing Arcus along, claiming that he was being an insufferable pain in the ass because he was always scratching on the door, trying to get out. Apparently, he’d made three successful escapes thus far, always ending up on Felicity’s doorstep.

As if picking up on the awkwardness –Felicity is 99% sure Oliver didn’t tell his sister about their… fallout— Thea’s been suspiciously quiet about her brother, choosing to focus on other topics like fashion and her crush on Roy Harper who she’d secretly been meeting a few times.

With her youthful, bubbly character she’s an absolute delight to be around and Felicity is always happy when she and Arcus stop by or they meet down in the park. In a way, it gives her a sense of normalcy: spending quality time with a Queen and Arcus. Even if it's not the Queen sibling she really wants to spend time with.

She's halfway to the bathroom to shower quickly, when she decides that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to extend an olive branch. Grabbing her phone, she ponders what she should do.

Call him? No, too many ways that could go wrong. She wants to talk to him in person, not while they're thousands of miles apart.

A text then. Keep it short and simple to test the waters and see how he responds.

Maybe, over the past two weeks, he's decided that he’s not interested in being friends with her anymore. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t tried to contact her.

She throws the phone on her bed. Damn it, now she’s not sure about this anymore.

Okay, let’s see, what’s the worst that can happen? He gets her text, isn’t interested, doesn’t reply. He comes back home after his tour in a few days and they run into each other in the lobby or elevator. It would be awkward, but she’d survive. If all else fails, she only has to endure his presence for another six or seven months until his year off is officially over and he moves back to LA. It's not ideal, but if this is the worst that can happen, it’s worth the risk, right?

She picks up the phone again with trembling fingers. This could either be the start of something new between them or the beginning of a permanent end.

Knowing herself and her treacherous fingers that sometimes hit ‘send’ in the middle of the message, she spends ten minutes in her notes, composing a perfectly balanced text.

**Hey, how’s the tour going? Hope you're okay. -F**

Friendly, but not too friendly and overzealous; short, but not too short. A simple peace offering.

After sending the text, she drops the phone back onto her bed and decides that tonight calls for a nice and long bath, the relaxing heat just the thing she needs after a long day.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

She may or may not have fallen asleep in the bathtub, because by the time she’s changed into her sleep shorts and oversized t-shirt, it’s almost 11. Nervously, she stalks over to her bed, eyes glued to the phone that’s still on top of her duvet.

Moment of truth. It's in the middle of the next day in Tokyo where Oliver is right now, so he should’ve been able to see her text by now.

But what if there’s no reply?

 _All the what ifs in the world won’t do you any good right now,_ she chastises herself _. Just check the damn phone. You can freak out afterwards._

With a nervous sigh she hops onto her bed and picks up the phone. All or nothing.

She has four missed phone calls from Oliver and just as many notifications from her voicemail.

He called.

He didn’t ignore her.

But four calls? Maybe something is wrong.

She quickly accesses her voicemail, holding her breath while the electronic voice tells her that she has four new messages.

“You have four new messages.”

“First new message.”

“Hey, Felicity. It’s Oliver.” There’s a pause. “Queen. Oliver Queen. In case you know any other Olivers that sound similar.” He laughs awkwardly. “Right, uhm, I got your text earlier and just wanted to… uh… say thank you for… reaching out. That was… you didn’t… you didn’t have to do that after everything. I mean you were well within your rights to…” he trails off and she can hear him swallow heavily. “I just… wanted to say that I’m sorry. I know, _I know_ , this isn’t the best way to do this, but apologizing through a text seemed even less ide-“

“End of message.”

“What? No, what the fuck?” she basically screams at her stupid phone.

“Next new message.”

“Hi, uh… it's Oliver… again. Your voicemail just cut me off,” he says, sounding thoroughly confused and frustrated. “What was I saying? Right, uh… apologizing. Not great via text, and apparently not great via voicemail either.” He chuckles sardonically at himself and she can almost see him shaking his head. “So, yes, I’m sorry. For… how I reacted. For not… telling you. You deserve to know and I’m sorry that it took me this long to get my head out of my ass. I never meant for you to get get hurt. By my past or present behavior. I was hoping that maybe-“

“End of message.”

Fucking phone being a fucking asshole. Start the next message already!!!

“Next new message.”

“Cut off again. Guess your phone is trying to tell me to just get to the fucking point and shut the hell up, huh?” He chuckles again, this time sounding more genuine. “Anyway, I was hoping that if you feel like it, we could meet and talk? I’ll be back in Starling in a couple of days and I should be done with all the press stuff on Thursday. Maybe we could get a coffee or just… a glass of water at your place… or mine. I mean, of course, we don’t have to meet, if you don’t want to. Just… I’d like to see you again and have the chance to explain every-“

“End of message.”

“Next new message.”

He sighs loudly. “Just let me know if you feel up for it. I’ll shut up now.” He hesitates for a second before continuing, “I hope you're doing okay and that you're healing.” He swallows and she can hear him breathe in and out a few times. “So yeah, I hope to hear back from you, even though I could really not blame you if you moved out of state and changed phone numbers after this colossal train wreck of a message.” There's another long pause. “Bye, Felicity. I hope to see you soon.”

“End of message.”

“End of new messages. To call back...”

She quickly exits her voicemail, sitting back against her pillows with a long-drawn sigh. Wow. And here she thought she was a rambler.

The entire time she could hear how nervous and uncertain he was, almost like he was scared of her reaction. Or rather scared of being rejected again.

But he’s willing to talk. He wants to meet with her and explain what happened. That’s big.

From his ramble it's not clear why he changed his mind and it has her own mind reeling. Was Iris right and he really was affected by their friendship breakup as much as she was? Had he been thinking of her?

One thing is for sure: if he’s willing to talk, she’s willing to listen to whatever he has to say. What happens after that is up to them.

**Meet and talk sounds good. Text me when you’re free. Enjoy the rest of your time in Tokyo :-) –F**

It's a start. Let’s see where it leads.

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	14. Chapter 14

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Oliver lets his eyes glide over the open expanse of the park, looking for Thea and his dog. They should be here… somewhere. She could’ve been _a little_ bit more specific about her whereabouts when she’d texted him to meet her at the park. Swallowing down a yawn, he starts his trek down a path to his right, hoping he’ll find her quickly.

His sister had stayed at his place again last night after already looking after Arcus for the entirety of his press tour. Yesterday, the last day of their worldwide press tour, had supposed to be over relatively quickly. But after interviews, walking the red carpet, another screening of the movie, and drinks with the cast and producers, he’d been roped into a few meetings that had turned into dinner and more drinks.

By the time he’d finally gotten home, he’d been dead on his feet. He'd been jet lagged beyond belief the whole day. Add that to countless interviews and absolutely energy draining conversations at the meetings, and you get one thoroughly exhausted actor.

All day long he’d looked for an out, any way to go home, get a few hours of precious sleep and then find Felicity to finally explain everything to her. He'd texted her to tell her that despite what he’d thought earlier in the week he wouldn’t be able to make it that day which had absolutely gutted him. The only thing he’d wanted to do was talk to her and save their friendship and any chance they might have to be more than friends.

She'd been understanding, of course, telling him to take his time, get rest and text her whenever he was ready.

And boy, is he ready.

The night following the ginormous clusterfuck of no less than four rambling voicemails he’d barely slept. Yes, she’d texted back within the hour, letting him know she was open to talking to him upon his return, but that had done little to ease his nerves. In a way, it had only made things worse. Now that the ‘if’ was out of the way, questions about the ‘how’ bombarded his brain.

He knows he can’t tell her about it in a public setting. The danger of someone overhearing them would be too big, and he has absolutely no intention to have his potential emotional breakdown plastered all over the tabloids. But what if she doesn't feel comfortable enough to be alone with him at either of their places? What if she wants to have the talk on neutral ground?

 _Just stop speculating and text her_ , his brain tells him in a seriously annoyed tone, _just find out what she wants._

He's just pulling out his phone, debating on the wording of the message when he suddenly spots his dog in his peripheral vision. He’s dragging a giant branch out of the pond in the middle of the park. It's a rather warm June day, but it’s still gonna be a bitch to get Arcus’ long fur dry again after his impromptu swim and his apartment will smell like wet dog for the next few days.

Approaching the blanket that Thea is sitting on near the pond, he almost stumbles over his own feet when he realizes that there’s another person sprawled out on the ground next to his sister.

Felicity.

What is she doing here? Shouldn’t she be at work? It's Friday, after all.

Oh god, what if she can’t work because her shoulder hurts too much?

No, wait. Diggle said that she’s keeping herself busy with work, didn't he?

But then why is she here in the middle of a work day?

He watches as Arcus proudly drops the branch next to the women shaking his wet fur out right next to them, making them squeal and try to hide from the flying drops of muddy water. Thea quickly attaches his leash to his collar, probably trying to prevent him from diving back into the pond for a second dip. Maybe she should’ve thought of that sooner.

He feels a tug at his heart at seeing the arguably two most important women in his life get along and spend time together. The ache in his chest intensifies when an unbidden scene plays out in his head: instead of just Arcus running around them, he can see two kids jumping excitedly up and down, taking turns in throwing the little squeaky ball for Arcus to fetch. He can see Felicity lying on the blanket, cradling her swollen belly with a content sigh, more beautiful and glowing than he's ever seen her.

Fuck, where is all of this coming from? He's never even really considered the possibility of kids and now he envisions having three of them? With Felicity? How crazy is that? And yet, why does it feel so right? Why isn’t he scared of that future? Why is he _longing_ to have it?

But none of his secret dreams will ever come true if he doesn’t fix things with Felicity first.

_Okay, you can do this, Oliver. Just walk over there and talk to them. No big deal. It's just your entire future on the line._

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the potential awkwardness that’s about to ensue, and steps closer. As soon as he catches his sister’s eye she jumps up, dropping the leash in Felicity’s lap and almost leaping into his arms.

Oliver can't help but smile. He hasn’t actually seen her since he’s come back two days ago. His plane from Tokyo had arrived late on Wednesday night after some delays before takeoff, and he’d been stuck doing the press stuff and premiere all day yesterday, leaving before she was up and coming back when she was already asleep.

He wraps his arms around her in a tight hug, her familiar touch grounding him and easing some of his nerves. Not all of them though, he realizes when Felicity stands up from the blanket, her hands smoothing over her summer dress while still holding onto Arcus’ leash.

There’s a shit ton of awkwardness when his sister steps away to make room for him to greet Felicity. What does he do? Does he go in for a hug? Shaking her hand would look beyond stupid and suspicious to his sister whom he hasn’t told about everything that happened with Felicity. Awkward hand wave maybe?

“Hey,” she says and steps closer, looking just as nervous and awkward as he feels. She hesitates for a second, but finally, to his eternal relief, closes the distance and wraps her arms gingerly around him.

He barely notices Arcus jumping up and down around them, because all he can see and feel is Felicity in his arms. He hugs her back tentatively at first, but when he feels her relaxing her stiff posture he tightens his grip and sinks into her.

God, he missed her.

He knows they need to talk and clear the air, both of them needing the closure it’ll hopefully bring them before they can start over, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Not when her body molds so perfectly into his, her soft warmth invading every last pore in his body.

He's about to pull back, hoping that Thea doesn’t notice that he's lingering way too long for a normal hug —not that Felicity isn’t lingering, too, her hands are clutching the fabric of his polo shirt on his back— when he suddenly feels a weird pull on his legs. Too late he realizes that Arcus’ running around had tangled his leash around their legs in a surprisingly tight fashion, making it almost impossible to move.

“Arcus,” he growls at his dog who’s sitting proudly next to them, wagging his tail excitedly, probably unaware of what he’s just done.

“Can you reach his collar? It's probably the easiest way to untangle us without his help. My end is too tight,” Felicity tells him and he can feel her tug on the leash without any results. “Or ya know, your sister could just lend us a helping hand,” she grumbles, turning her head towards the woman in question.

Right! Thea is there. He totally _didn’t_ forget about that.

He turns to her as well. “Can you- Are you taking a _photo_??”

Thea smiles widely at them, tapping happily at her phone’s screen. “Yup. Someone’s gotta preserve this for generations to come. I’m sure one day you’ll want to show your kids how adorable you were. I’m just being a responsible aunt.”

You're being a little brat, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, he thinks darkly, completely ignoring that she had just mentioned his potential kids with Felicity.

In a moment of pure irritation with his sister’s antics he tries to grab the phone out of her hand, completely miscalculating the distance and his limited range of motion. The sudden momentum throws Felicity and him completely off balance, any attempt at sidestepping to regain their precious balance proves futile, nothing stopping them from toppling to the ground.

At least he has the mind to turn them during the very short way down, so that he takes the brunt of the fall and Felicity lands on top of him, rather than the other way around.

For a few stunned seconds, it's deadly quiet around them, before suddenly Felicity breaks out into a fit of giggles, pressing her face into his chest in a vain attempt of muffling her uncontrolled laughter. The sound is pure music to his ears and he soaks up all the happiness she's radiating after such a long time without being around it.

“Well, at least we didn’t land in the pond. Take that, 101 Dalmatians,” she wheezes out between laughs, her hands clutching the front of his shirt.

Remembering the scene she's referring to from the 1961 classic movie he can’t help but chuckle. “Are you okay, though? Is your shoulder okay?” he asks, instantly sobering.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” she says with a wide smile, patting his chest reassuringly, previous awkwardness completely gone. “I think I can recall that we’ve agreed that you make a formidable pillow despite all the hardness… _firmness_ of your body,” she corrects herself with a blush. “Are you okay? Hope I didn’t crush you. I don’t think the rest of the female population would ever forgive me if I permanently harmed you.”

“Well, technically, it’d be Arcus’ fault. Plus, we already established that you’re not really heavy,” he replies with a smile of his own.

She presses her lips together. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that the fact that you couldn’t carry me all the way to our building when I sprained my ankle proved that I _am_ too heavy.” Her tone is so playful, so teasing that it just tugs at his bruised but slowly healing heart.

“Nope,” he says resolutely, trying to hide his renewed chagrin that he’d failed to carry her all the way that day. “That was also Arcus’ fault because he kept trying to trip me.”

“Uh-huh,” she hums, a knowing smirk lifting her lips. “You're still sticking to that excuse?”

“It's not an excuse, it’s a fact.” It's totally an excuse for his poor physical shape, but that doesn’t matter, because she's smiling and teasing and he’s pretty sure he somehow ended up in heaven.

“Hey, guys?” Thea interrupts rudely. “Don’t mean to burst your bubble, but you should get up. I see some paps starting to creep out of the bushes and your current position will be like fulfilling all their dreams.”

Oh, shit. They're still out in the park for everyone to see.

Felicity starts wiggling on top of him which is definitely not helping. “Hey Thea, while you're just standing there doing nothing, mind giving us a hand?”

With Thea’s help they disentangle the leash quickly, allowing Felicity to roll off of him, landing on the grass right between him and Arcus who’d happily laid down next to them after they’d fallen over. That little bastard.

Once Oliver’s standing on his own two feet again, he holds out a hand to Felicity in a silent offer. Her eyes flit between his face and his hand before she finally grasps it, letting herself be pulled into an upright position.

Now that they’re back on their feet, he can feel the atmosphere sizzle again with nervous energy. She's instantly quieter, careful to keep some distance between them. Back to awkwardness it is.

“You guys wanna go for a coffee?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, trying to dissipate some of the awkwardness.

“I’d love a coffee, big bro,” Thea sighs, “but we both know that now that the paps have zeroed in on a potential story, they’ll follow you wherever you go. I don’t know about you two, but I really don’t feel like having them loiter around while we drink coffee.”

Damnit, she’s right of course. Fucking paps. He's definitely underestimated their renewed interest in him, following the press tour and release of his new movie. So far, his hiatus has been blessed with an abnormally low number of paparazzi following him. Clearly, pictures of him jogging around the park or going grocery shopping aren’t nearly as interesting or lucrative as the photos of him drinking and partying. Plus, his little outburst during an interview yesterday had probably made matters even worse.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Felicity's eyes grow wide in realization, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’.

“How about I go get the coffees and you two head home?” he suggests, desperately trying to extend his time with Felicity by any means necessary. Maybe having Thea there as a buffer for now is the best thing that could’ve happened to them. They can just spend some time together without having to do the big talk, getting used to each other again before he drops the truth in her lap.

“I actually need to stop by the office soon,” Felicity says with an apologetic smile.

“Oh,” he breathes out, unable to conceal his disappointment. “You should probably still come home with us and then have Dig or someone else pick you up in the garage, otherwise these assholes will follow you around.”

“Let’s divide and conquer,” Thea chirps up. “Ollie, you and Arcus will go grab some coffees for all of us and Felicity and I will go back home. Hopefully most of the paps will follow you and we can get back in the building without any problems. By the time we're done with coffee, the coast should be clear enough for Felicity to be picked up by Diggle.”

He sighs, knowing that she’s right and that it's a good plan. Doesn't mean he has to like it.

“Fine,” he grumbles his agreement, “but you’ll take Arcus with you. I don’t want any of those assholes get too close to you.”

Looking up, there’s a flash of something going through Felicity’s eyes that he can't quite place. “You okay with that?” he asks gently, knowing that this whole situation must be beyond bewildering for her.

“Yeah,” she smiles softly. “It's just weird, ya know. You and I have been here at the park how many times in the last four months and no one ever cared and now suddenly we have to worry about paparazzi. It's all a bit… surreal.”

He nods, his eyes hardening when they zero in on a not so subtle pap a good hundred yards down the path. “It's because of the press tour and everything. It's like they’ve all suddenly remembered that I still exist. I’m sorry this is affecting you, too.”

In a surprising move, she reaches out, giving his hand a little squeeze. “It's not your fault that the world seemingly has nothing better to do than to stalk celebrities’ private lives. I’ll get used to it.”

Before his brain can even begin to analyze what she just said, Thea loops her arms through hers, dragging her away with a short, “Go get some coffee, Ollie. See ya in a little bit,” thrown over her shoulder.

He just nods dumbly, staring after the retreating pair. What the fuck?

Felicity said ‘I’ll get used to it’, which would imply that she plans on being a part of his life going forward and running into these types of situations again.

She still sees herself in his future. Or rather, she still sees _him_ in _her_ future.

Either way, there’s definitely still hope.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW** **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

“Oliver, it's so good to have you back in Starling City after your pretty extensive world press tour for your fantastic new movie,” the unfairly pretty brunette reporter asks in a sweet voice. “Are you excited to share your newest adventure with your home town?”

“Of course, I am, Samantha,” Oliver smiles back at her, enigmatic as ever, even though there's an almost imperceptible line forming between his eyebrows. “This year, taking time off and being back in my home town, has been such an amazing experience and it seems only right to have the US premiere in the city that most of the movie is set in.”

“I've had the pleasure of already seeing the movie and it's so beautifully done and definitely a tearjerker. What drew you to the role?”

“Everything, really. When we began production I was going through quite a bit of a life change myself and showing the emotions that come with that came very easily to me on screen. I've been quite reluctant to play characters in biopics, because it's such a delicate line to walk and I would never want to offend someone with my portrayal of them. But for this movie I had the extraordinary honor to actually meet with Clint Barton and his family, and I definitely used the chance to talk to them in depth about their story, and all those long hours gave me an understanding of the character unlike anything I've ever experienced before.”

“Tell our viewers in your own words what the movie is about.”

“It follows the life story of Clint Barton, who plays for the Starling City Islanders and who many say is the best hockey player since Wayne Gretzky. At the height of his career he suffered a bad knee injury, fell victim to depression and lost his wife and daughter in a horrific car accident. We follow him as he goes through the darkest time of his life and finally finds his light again when he falls in love. It's a beautiful, but heartbreaking story of what it means to hit rock bottom and find a way to live again,” he explains and even through the screen Felicity can see a myriad of emotions playing across his face. You can just tell that this role really means a lot to him.

“Your press tour has led you all over the world, but you've attended all international premieres alone. In fact, you haven't been linked to anyone romantically in well over a year now. Is there hope for women out there? Are you single at the moment?” the really fucking annoying reporter asks, looking at him expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

He pastes on a fake smile and chuckles. “I know that I've been quite open with my private life in the past ten years, Samantha,” he says through gritted teeth. “But over the past one and a half years I've come to the realization that that is no way to live. And my publicist and I have made it _very_ clear for quite some time now that my private life is private and that I will not answer these questions.”

Samantha looks taken aback by his decisive words for a second and has to put on a fake smile of her own. “You've been spotted with a mystery blonde woman over the last few months. Is she the one that has stolen your heart?”

Felicity sucks in a breath, staring blankly at the TV screen. Is Samantha talking about her?

Oliver takes a deep breath, grappling for control. “You clearly don't understand the meaning of the word _private_ ,” he bites out, fake smile never leaving his lips. “So how about this: tell your boss that thanks to your incompetence and indiscretion I refuse to do any more interviews with your channel.”

With a wink directly into the camera that is sure to send thousands of women into complete meltdown he marches out of frame and the video ends.

Oh, boy. Iris had warned her that the interview had taken an immensely awkward turn when she'd sent her the link earlier, but this is even more cringe-worthy than expected.

She understands his desire to keep his private life out of the hands of the tabloids, but he'd been pretty harsh on the woman. Then again, she'd just plowed on even after Oliver had reminded her that he wouldn't answer questions pertaining to his love life, so maybe she deserved his harsh reaction.

And maybe this interview is the reason why there had suddenly been more paparazzi than usual lingering around their building and in the park? Oh god, if any of them caught their ridiculous leash collapse incident this morning, she'll never hear the end of it.

Her fingers hover over her tablet, itching to see if there's any evidence of their incredibly awkward reunion this morning, but deciding against it. No need to relive that moment from the eyes of the public.

A glance at the clock tells her that she still has about half an hour of being nervous and kinda completely freaking out before Oliver stops by with dinner.

She's not sure whether to be excited or scared to finally talk things out. On the one hand, she's glad that they've made it to this point, both of them ready and willing to talk, but on the other hand, she's absolutely terrified that this could be it. What if they can't get past their differences? What if Oliver decides that he's not actually ready to talk about his past with Slade? What if he'll just talk to her to clear his conscience and then decide that he doesn't want to be friends with her because she kinda forced him to tell her? What if...

 _Stop! All the what ifs in the world don't matter, you'll have your answers in less than an hour. You can freak out then_ , she tells herself forcefully.

For now she has to deal with the much more pressing question of what to wear.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

So, the whole not freaking out thing kinda didn't work, she realizes twenty-five minutes later when she finds herself pacing in her living room, stopping every few seconds to make sure she didn't miss the doorbell or a knock.

She can do this! They'll talk like the responsible adults they are. They'll forgive each other and move on. Simple!

Oh shit, did she just jinx everything?

No, no, no. No jinxing.

If they just talk, be honest with each other, everything will be okay.

Right when the digital clock on her tablet switches to 7:00, there's a tentative knock on her door, sending her brain back into overdrive. Moment of truth.

Her hand is trembling when she reaches for the door handle, yanking the door open with a little more force than necessary, revealing a sheepish Oliver and a tail-wagging Arcus who immediately pounces when he sees her.

“Sorry,” Oliver says with a wince. “He looked at me with those big, reproachful eyes when I was leaving the apartment and I just couldn't leave him behind.”

“That's alright,” she quickly assures him, crouching down to greet Arcus. “Our dinner wouldn't quite be the same without him curled at our feet waiting for the tiniest scrap of food to fall off our plates.”

When she stands back up, he smiles at her, but he looks so unsure of his action, like he suddenly doesn't know how to behave around her anymore and it damn near breaks her heart. From day one, they'd always had this easy-going atmosphere between them that had allowed them to be honest and open, teasing each other good-naturedly, even flirting lightly from time to time. It pains her to think that they've lost that.

“Come on in,” she smiles brightly at him in a feeble attempt to regain some of their levity.

He nods eagerly, lips ticking up in a half smile that looks a little more hopeful, following her invitation as he maneuvers the two bags of food in his hands past her and Arcus.

They settle in on the couch with full plates and wine glasses like they've done countless times before, some of their ease returning even if they're not quite as talkative as usual.

“Wanna watch some TV while we eat?” she asks, already reaching for the tablet that's programmed to control her entire multimedia setup, needing something to fill the silence that is threatening to become suffocating again.

“Sure, whatever's on.”

'Whatever's on' quickly turns out to be the video of his interview that she'd watched earlier, the annoying reporter's voice echoing through her living room. Shit, shit, shit. He wasn't supposed to know that she's secretly watching his interviews. Damnit.

She can feel heat rising in her undoubtedly red cheeks, rapidly tapping her fingers against the screen to put on something not quite as mortifying. When she looks up, he says nothing but arches one eyebrow in question.

“Iris sent me a link to that interview,” she mumbles.

He presses his lips together, eyes shining with mirth. “Uh-huh.”

“Shut up and eat,” she grumbles, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Well, while we’re on the topic,” he starts, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Did you get to the office okay or were the vultures still hovering outside? I fear that my not so diplomatic answer in that interview made things way worse than they could’ve been.”

“Because you gave her a piece of your mind?”

He sighs, taking a sip of his wine. “They always ask those questions. I give them the generic variation of ‘no comment’, they try again and if they’re really determined they’ll try for a third time, but eventually they give up because they just get a limited amount of time with each actor, so they need to move on to other topics to get any good soundbites they can use,” he explains.

“But because you were so harsh with the reporter, now everybody assumes that you have something to hide and that that’s why you got so defensive,” she fills in.

“Yes, and now the whole thing is getting blown out of proportion and I’m apparently hiding my secret girlfriend. And since I was so harsh with the reporter, people think the relationship is really serious and I might be getting married soon.”

She gapes at him, mouth hanging open in shock. “Wow, people suck.”

He laughs at that. “Yeah, some people do,” he sighs. “I assume you haven’t been contacted by any photographers?”

“Uh, no? Should I have?” Why would photographers contact _her_?

“No, I’m really glad actually.” When she throws him a questioning look he elaborates, “It probably means that none of them got a good enough shot of our… uh… moment this morning.” Now who’s blushing?

“Oh, well, that’s good. You think they weren't able to identify me?”

“Most likely,” he says with a shrug. “I’m sure that otherwise either one or both of us would’ve already gotten a call from them, offering to make the photos disappear for a sizeable amount of money.”

“They would blackmail us?”

“It happens,” he admits. “It's not ideal, but sometimes paying them is a whole lot better than having certain pictures surface and creating a scandal, especially right in the middle of a promotional period. I don’t wanna know how much my publicist has paid paparazzi over the years to keep photos out of the press.”

“That’s just messed up.”

He chuckles sardonically. “I don’t disagree, but it’s part of the business.”

“Hmm,” she hums and takes another bite from her delicious salmon pasta. “So why did you go off on that reporter? I mean, I’ve seen a few of your interviews before and you always just answered the questions or evaded them long enough for the reporters to drop them. What was different about this interview?”

He studies her for a few seconds, eyes locked with hers, a ghost of the smile playing on his lips. “Two things, I guess. On the one hand, I’m just fed up with everybody’s interest in my private life. Why can't they just mind their own business? Why do they care if I spend time with someone? They just use celebrities and their private lives to create drama and sell copies or get views or whatever. I just wanna be left alone, do my job, and live my life, but instead, they follow me everywhere and make it virtually impossible for me to date anyone,” he grits out, clearly frustrated.

“But you _have_ dated women,” she points out, remembering plenty of headlines and candid photos –oh, the irony- linking him to a myriad of women over the years.

Oliver runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Yeah, but… none of that was ever… serious. I was either having fun or it was just to get publicity. I never really cared back then what they wrote about me, because the women I was ‘dating’ were usually from the business, too, and profited from our ‘relationship’ just as much as I did. But now, I don’t know how I’ll ever have a _real_ relationship while those little fuckers keep lurking around every corner. I don’t wanna force that kind of a life on the woman I love,” he finishes, pain shining from his eyes.

Sooo, does he have someone specific in mind for this potential scenario? Because the way he's looking at her with barely contained frustration and pain, kinda makes her think that he may or may not be talking about… her?

Wait, is that an actual possibility?

Hold your fucking horses, Smoak! This whole opening up thing is nice and dandy and the possibility of Oliver Queen having feelings for her that go beyond friendship is completely insane, but he still hasn’t talked about Slade. One step at a time!

She’ll have time later to freak out about the fact that the man she’s ninety per cent sure she’s hopelessly in love with reciprocates her feelings and is not acting on those feelings because he’s scared of destroying her life. Holy shit.

She clears her throat, hoping that her voice will come out normal and not in a high-pitched tone that shows how freaked out she is right now. “And the other reason?”

She immediately regrets deflecting the matter when she sees his face fall, sadness clouding his eyes for a second. Had he been hoping she'd ask more about his pessimistic view on having a real relationship? Had he hoped she’d argue against his opinion and convince him of the contrary?

“Uh… the reporter, Samantha Clayton was on the last leg of the press tour with me,” he explains, guilt mixing into his sad tone. “At our last stop in Tokyo I ducked out of the screening early and went to grab a coffee at my hotel and she approached me and kinda offered to go back to her room with her.”

She _what_? How dare she?

“Wow, that’s…” disgusting, inappropriate, cheap, outrageous, “not very… professional,” she finishes, swallowing down her more accurate assessments.

He chuckles lightly, but the humor doesn't reach his eyes. “Yeah, but I could’ve handled seeing her again after her… proposition better. Either way, I still got an earful from my publicist for being so harsh to her.”

“You don’t seem very remorseful, though.”

“I’m not sorry for what I said. I warned her and she didn’t listen. Serves her right for not taking ‘no’ for an answer,” he says and shrugs. “I am, however, unhappy that I’ve inadvertently created even more interest in my private life. But what’s done is done. I’ll deal with it.”

She nods, slowly scooping the last bit of sauce on her spoon, debating if she should offer her support for anything that might come his way. She definitely wouldn’t be above hacking a little bit if that meant making things easier for him, even though her workload is still doubled right now with her unsuccessful search for Cooper and everything.

He also finishes his last bite and carefully arranges his cutlery on the plate, his body growing more rigid with every passing second. She can’t blame him. Now that they’ve finished their dinner, the air starts sizzling with all that has not been said yet.

“I had Mario make some of his amazing cannoli for dessert,” he breaks the silence, maybe hoping to buy himself a little more time, but she’s straight out of patience.

“How about we eat them after we talk?” she counters, keeping her voice soft, yet assertive.

He looks like he wants to protest, but he finally nods and takes a deep breath. “Slade,” he puts a name to the elephant in the room. “What do you want to know?”

Everything?

“How do… _did_ you know each other?” she asks, reminding them both that Slade had died a couple of days after she’d been discharged, never once waking up from his coma.

He relaxes a little bit, looking relieved that she’s starting off easy. “He was a producer and I worked with him about eight years ago for one movie.”

She frowns, not understanding how that could’ve led to the other man wanting to kill someone Oliver cares about. “And you behaved badly on set or caused him to lose money or… what?”

“No, nothing of the sort. The production went smoothly and I only ever met him a few times throughout the process. We weren't friends or anything, but we were… friendly at least.”

“Then what could’ve possibly made him hate you so much that he was willing to kill someone to hurt you?” she questions, still failing to understand how their relationship turned to shit.

He takes a couple of deep breaths, his eyes pleading with her to… god knows what, before he whispers, “He believed I killed his daughter.”

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super fond of doing this, because it may spoil some stuff, but: potential trigger warning - mentions of suicide. Please stop right here and don’t come at me, if that’s something that you don’t wish to read about.

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

_“He believed I killed his daughter.”_

She can hear her heart beating rapidly in her chest in the dead silence of her living room. Every nerve ending is on full alert, aware of the myriad of emotions in Oliver’s eyes. There’s so much pain and so much guilt in his brilliant blue eyes that it knocks the air out of her lungs for a second.

No, this can’t be. Oliver wouldn’t… he couldn’t…

“Oliver,” she whispers, her usually so active brain failing her completely for once. What can she possibly say in this situation?

So instead of saying anything else, she lets her actions speak, closing the distance between them on the couch by scooting over until her knee bumps into his. Grabbing his hands with hers, she squeezes reassuringly, letting him know without a shadow of a doubt that she’s here for him even if she doesn’t have the words to tell him.

This is what she wanted. She _wanted_ him to open up, to explain everything to her, so she’ll make damn sure he knows that she’ll support him no matter what.

He gives her a shaky smile and takes a deep breath.

“I was at a party,” he starts hesitantly, eyes glued to their joint hands. “We had just started shooting Power Play, and that day, the director had pulled me aside and ripped into me for being late to set and for my lackluster attitude.

“Beforehand, I was really excited to do the movie and doing the research, getting to talk to Clint Barton, but then a couple of weeks before we started shooting, my co-star Anna was diagnosed with breast cancer and was told to start treatments immediately. So they had to recast the role of the female lead and as you know, they cast Carrie Cutter. And she's... well, she's clingy and pretty high-maintenance. Since she came on so late, she didn't get to do the same kind of research that Anna and I did with the Barton family, and I always felt like she just didn't understand the magnitude of her role. She was kind of half-assing it in our scenes and I felt my own performance taking a dive.”

She nods along, letting him set his own pace, even if she doesn't quite understand what this has to do with Slade's daughter.

He looks up, meeting her eyes for the first time since he started talking. Maybe he sees her confusion or maybe he finally has his thoughts in order. “Right, long story short, I was frustrated and just wanted to blow off some steam, so when my friend called and told me about a party at some rapper's house, I was all for it.”

“I drank... a lot, trying to find an escape from everything,” he sighs, his nose scrunched up in disgust with his own behavior. “At those kinds of parties I usually never lacked... companions. There were these two or three younger women following me around all night. One of them was Rose, Slade's daughter. I didn't know that at the time, though, not that it would've changed anything.”

She gives his fingers an encouraging tug, letting him know that she's still listening, still there for him.

He locks his eyes on hers, pleading with her to... stop him? Tell him to go on? Take away his pain? Absolve him of his guilt? All of the above?

She doesn't know and she doesn't dare speak in fear that he'll stop if she says the wrong thing.

Looking into his pained eyes, she realizes that this is so much bigger than her. He's not just telling her because she went and demanded the truth. Maybe that was the catalyst to get him to talk, but now that he's started he needs to finish for his own sake.

With a start she realizes that she's probably the first person (aside from hopefully a very good therapist) he's decided to open up to. Carefully, she extricates one of her hands from his, bringing it up to cup his cheek, her fingertips gliding over his light stubble in what she hopes is a supportive gesture.

His eyes fall shut and he immediately leans into her touch, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

Keeping his eyes firmly closed, he takes a deep breath and continues, “I knew she was young, barely 18, so even in my drunk state I had the mind to stay clear of her despite her constant advances. She and her friend were hot on my heels all night, drinking shots and smoking weed with me. Maybe trying to impress me?”

She lets her thumb smooth over the crease between his eyes and he suddenly opens them again, staring back at her with wide blue eyes.

He grinds his teeth together but goes on. “The night progressed, I was a drunk and high and when Rose's older friend whispered in my ear and told me that she could make me feel even better, I was all for it. So we snuck out into the garden, found some secluded corner and... had sex,” he whispers the last word, barely able to get it out.

She tries hard not to react. She's seen the headlines, seen the photos, she knows that Oliver was a notorious playboy, so this part of the story really shouldn’t surprise her. But it still does. That version of Oliver is so contradistinctive to the one she’s come to know and love. Reconciling those two very different sides of him was something she’d struggled with in the beginning of their friendship and why she’d tried to keep him at arm’s length at first. Hearing him talk about his promiscuous past now is… hard.

“When we got back to the party, Rose was screaming. She was completely out of it, crying and yelling and getting in our faces. Accusing her friend of using her family's name and influence in the industry to get close to me and steal me away from her.” He takes a deep breath, a shudder running through his body at the memory. “I don't know if she took something else while we were gone or if the mixture of alcohol and pot were hitting her hard in that moment, but she was completely hysterical.”

He narrows his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “I remember that I pretty much didn't care, because she was just some girl that had a crush on me and that was too drunk to think straight. The two girls were screaming at each other and I was just turning around to leave them to hash it out when Rose suddenly pulled out a gun.”

Felicity barely manages to stifle her surprised gasp, her fingers stilling against his skin.

She's not sure he even registers her shock because he just keeps going, “She pointed the gun at her friend, screaming that she destroyed her life and dreams. And then she turned to me, crying that she loved me and had dreamed of being with me, but that I didn't even see her and just went after girls that were whores.”

His breathing is getting irregular, his eyes unfocused and glassy, like he's completely lost in his memory. “And then, like a switch had been flipped, her anger and disappointment suddenly just ... vanished and she got calm... so calm. In an eerily steady voice she told me that it was okay, that she wasn't worthy of my love, that we’d meet again and that she would try to be better for me in the next life...” he trails off, sucking in deep gulps of air.

No! No, no, no. Please don't say that...

“She shot herself in the head,” Oliver chokes out, finally losing the last bit of control he’d feebly held onto. “There was so much blood… so, so much blood… and everybody was screaming and running away, and I couldn’t… I just couldn't move. I just froze right there, a few feet away from her.”

Felicity pulls him into her body, not even caring that his face ends up flush against her breasts as she somehow maneuvers them into a lying position on the couch. He's limply draped across her upper half, his body wracked by sobs as he cries into her shirt.

God, she feels so helpless.

How can she make him feel better? How can she soothe his pain? How can she take away his guilt and shame?

Deep down, she knows that she can't. Not fully, not tonight. These scars run far too deep for her to reach right now. He'll always carry this guilt with him, no matter what she does or says.

So she just holds him, letting her fingers scrape soothingly over his scalp, running over his back in circular motions. She's vaguely aware that she's whispering to him, saying that it's okay, that everything will be okay. Even if she thought that he could hear her right now, the words wouldn't mean anything. They're just empty shells, their only purpose to fill the silence, let him hear her voice and remind him that he's not alone. Remind him that she's staying and choosing to accept him with all his flaws and mistakes.

Truth be told, she hadn’t expected this. The first time Oliver had mentioned an incident in his past, he’d said that ‘something bad’ had happened. But back then, her mind had gone to more obvious explanations. Maybe an affair had gotten complicated and a physical fight had broken out. Maybe he’d caused a car crash and innocent bystanders had gotten hurt. Maybe a drunken night out had resulted in massive property damage. That’s why she didn’t understand why he was so reluctant to talk about it.

Never in a million years would _this_ situation even have crossed her mind. Oliver hurting anyone already didn’t make any sense. Oliver being responsible for someone’s death was unthinkable.

And yet, it had happened.

Or at least that’s what Slade believed. And what he’d made Oliver believe as well.

But is it really as simple as putting all the blame on Oliver? Definitely not!

There were too many factors in play to blame just one person. Rose shouldn't have even been at the party in the first place. She shouldn’t have been drinking or taking drugs. Her friend shouldn’t have gone after Oliver despite knowing of her feelings for him. He shouldn't have slept with her. Rose shouldn’t have been able to get her hands on a gun.

When Oliver’s breathing finally evens out and she can feel him stir against her, she debates if she should press on.

She has all the answers she needs. It doesn’t take a genius to put the rest of the story together. Slade, probably blinded by grief and desperation after losing his daughter, had decided to put all the blame on Oliver, going so far as threatening him that one day he’d get his revenge by taking someone important away from him. And Oliver had carried the guilt and pain with him for the past one and a half years.

There are still unanswered questions, of course. Why her? How did Slade know that Oliver and she had become close friends? How did he know where they would be that night? Had he been stalking them? Why now? Why did he wait for more than one and a half years to come after Oliver? Why didn’t he go after Thea or Moira, even Tommy? Why, why, why?

She could ask Oliver all these questions, but she honestly doubts that he has any more answers than she does. And the only man that could give them the answers is dead.

So she doesn't ask and she doesn't say a word. She finally knows why she was targeted, knows why she was hurt, and that's enough for her. The biggest question mark and the source of all her frustrations is erased and she finally feels like she can move on and leave it all behind her. She can finally move forward, instead of treading water.

It's not about her anymore. Now the question is if Oliver needs her to push him to get the rest of the story out so that _he_ can move forward. Is it enough for him to have come this far? Or does he need to talk about the aftermath as well? He must’ve been questioned by the police and at some point Slade confronted him. How did his lawyers and publicist sweep all of this under a rug without the public finding out? Does he-

“I’m sorry,” his hoarse whisper rips her out of her contemplation and when she looks up she realizes that his weight isn’t on her anymore. He's lifted himself up slightly, his weight now resting on his forearms as he hovers over her, looking down at her damp shirt with embarrassment in his red, blotchy eyes.

She quickly brings her hands around to cup his face, thumbs running over his cheeks to wipe the moisture away. “You're a human being, Oliver. You have every right to let go and show your emotions. There’s no shame in that and it’s definitely not a reason to apologize,” she assures him gently, finding her own voice raspy from disuse.

He looks like he wants to protest, but she doesn’t give him any time. With a little bit of maneuvering she wiggles out from under him, turning on her side, hoping that he’ll do the same, so he can be in a more comfortable position facing her.

He mirrors her movements, resting his head on his biceps, staring at her with wide eyes. She lightly scratches the scruff on his free cheek. “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard to go back to that place. If I’d had any idea… I wouldn’t have pressured you like this.”

He shakes his head sadly. “I think I needed to do this. It's painful, but I've never been able to tell anyone close to me about this before. In a way, it's liberating,” he mumbles. “And you deserved to know after…” He sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She presses her lips together, the ‘why didn’t you’ burning on her tongue, but remaining unsaid.

“I… I was ashamed,” he whispers brokenly, casting his eyes down. “The man I was that night is the worst version of myself and I hate who I was. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“Because you thought it would change how I see you now?” she questions despite her best efforts to let him be the one to talk. “Please look at me, Oliver.”

Reluctantly, he lifts his head, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know. I just…”

Maybe he does need one more push in the right direction.

“Let me ask you this: after I told you about what happened with Cooper, did you start seeing me differently? Did you suddenly start treating me differently because you thought I was just a victim?”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion and a smidge of anger. Good. “What? No, of course not,” he shoots back quickly.

“Why not? I was weak and let him use me,” she shrugs seemingly nonchalantly, while trying to swallow down the tsunami of horrible memories. He needs to understand this.

His eyes light up with anger and protectiveness at hearing her belittle herself. “You're _not_ weak and you're _not_ a victim. You survived. You stood up to him. You went through hell and came out on the other side as one of the strongest and most incredible people I know,” he grits out, sitting up and pinning her down with an intense glare.  
“I don’t treat you differently because what happened in your past is in your past. Everything you went through, as horrible as it was, shaped you into the woman you are today and I happen to lo- _oh_!” he exhales loudly, letting his tongue run over his lips. “I see what you did there, but it’s not the same.”

“The situation is different, but the principle is the same,” she shrugs, glad he caught up with what she was doing. “Something bad happened and it made you see that it was time to turn your life around.”

“It's not the same,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I wasn’t the one that got hurt. I’m responsible for…”

“You're not responsible for her death, Oliver,” she argues gently, taking his hands in hers. “It was an incredibly messy situation and you can't take the blame for it all.”

“I was the reason she was at the party in the first place. She'd somehow heard that I was coming and wanted to meet me. If I hadn’t ignored her all night, if I hadn’t slept with her friend, if-“

“You can’t live your life in ‘what ifs’, Oliver.”

“She's dead because of me.”

“She's dead because _she_ decided to end her life,” Felicity sighs, frustrated that she can’t get through to him. “You didn’t tell her to take her life. And you didn’t pull the trigger.”

He rips his hands out of hers, standing up. Arcus lets out a dismayed yelp when his master almost steps on him, but puts his head back down, remaining in his spot by Felicity’s feet.

She lets Oliver pace in dead silence for a couple of minutes, watching in fascination as different emotions keep flickering over his face. He's angry, that’s for sure. But she can’t quite tell if he’s angry at her for pushing him once again, or if he's angry at himself for what happened at that party. Maybe both?

“Look, Oliver,” she starts, staying in her seat on the couch. “If you don’t want to keep talking about it, that’s fine. You opened up about why Slade came after us and that’s all I asked for. Now, I can only offer you a friendly ear for when or _if_ you want to share more. I’ll be here to listen to whatever you have to say.”

He stops pacing, staring at her with inquisitive eyes. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No,” she sighs, trying her hardest not to sound too exasperated at his idiotic jump to conclusion, “I’m telling you that it’s okay if you don’t want to keep talking about Rose and Slade. We can move on.”

“You don’t want to hear the rest of the story?” he questions, stepping closer to her with raised eyebrows.

“I _do_ want to hear the rest of the story,” she concedes, “but you don’t seem to be ready to go there right now. So I’ll do what I should’ve done before, and give you more time. With all the information I have, I can piece the rest together on my own for now. And I doubt that you can answer all the other questions.”

He plops back down onto the couch. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand how he even knew that we’re friends. If you think about it, not that many people know about us. And how did he know where we’d be that night? It wasn’t the anniversary of Rose’s death, so why did he decide to come after you on a seemingly insignificant date? Did he have you followed beforehand to learn about your routine?” She takes a breath, stopping herself from ranting more. “It all just doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Oliver regards her silently for a few seconds, eyes flickering over her face. “You're right, I don’t have answers to those questions,” he admits, fidgeting with his fingers. “Have you tried to look into his background…uh… virtually?”

She shakes her head. “I wanted to hear your story first before I dug around in his past. But I’m thinking that there must be some sort of trail that could lead to some answers.”

“Could you… keep me in the loop on what you find… if you find anything, that is?”

“Yeah, of course,” she says without hesitation, wrinkling her forehead. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Uh… I just wasn’t sure where we stand,” he replies hesitantly.

“What about us?”

He swallows nervously. “Is your offer of a friendly ear just for tonight?”

Is that what he thinks? That she just wanted answers and now that she has them she’ll kick him out of her life again?

 _Of course that’s what he would think,_ she berates herself in her head. _You’d think the same thing if he’d told you in no uncertain terms that you were done._

She knew the second she said that those words two weeks ago that it had been a mistake. Not just the action of kicking him out of her life, but also the words themselves. She'd been harsh, unfairly so. She'd wanted so bad to take it all back.

She'd known all along that the words were too harsh, too final, but in that moment, she hadn’t cared about the consequences. She'd given into her frustration and lashed out, using him as a convenient target to unleash all her pent-up emotions on.

She still stands by her position that she deserved to know the reason Slade had come after her and almost killed her. When Oliver hadn’t given into her demands she’d been hurt and confused and had simply lost control. But now, knowing the truth, she wishes nothing more than to go back in time and change her reaction and give him the time that he needed to be ready to tell her.

She sighs, her fingers finding his once more. “I was selfish,” she breathes out, seeing a little flicker of surprise pass through his eyes. “I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me, especially after I opened up to you about Cooper and what I went through. When you wouldn’t talk, I thought you didn’t trust me and with all the stress and pain I just… snapped.”

She shakes her head, nibbling on her bottom lip nervously. “I’m sorry that you were the poor soul that got the brunt of my anger and frustration. And I’m sorry that I pushed you so hard and gave you an ultimatum like that. I should’ve realized that you needed more time and I should’ve given it to you instead of only focusing on myself.”

He squeezes her fingers lightly, giving her a small smile. “You're forgiven,” he reassures her. “I hope you can forgive me, too, for being selfish and not opening up sooner.”

“Of course,” she smiles at him, feeling lighter than she has in a long time, hopeful that they can finally move past both of their mistakes and rekindle their friendship… and maybe more. “I’m glad you trust me with this after everything.”

“It's not that I didn’t trust you before,” he’s quick to clarify. “I just remembered how you had your doubts about me… us… when we first got to know each other, because you’d heard the stories about my past. I didn’t want to prove them right. I didn’t want you to see me like that. You know, like the playboy asshole I was for some time there.”

“But you're not anymore. You changed,” she reminds him, playing with his fingers in her hand. “And I happen to think that the man that’s sitting in front of me right now is pretty amazing.”

He blushes. She actually just made Oliver Fucking Queen blush with a simple compliment.

“Yeah?” he croaks out, looking at her with wide eyes and a hopeful smile.

She nods happily, a boost of confidence surging through her for making one of the most sought after bachelors on the planet blush because of her words.

He clears his throat, looking down at their entwined hands. “So now what?”

“Now… we continue living.”

“And just forget about what happened? Just move forward and never look back?” he questions, eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

She smiles encouragingly at him. “I’ve learned that it's a delicate balance. On the one hand, it's good to remember past mistakes because you learn from them and you can let those lessons guide you to become a better version of yourself. But on the other hand, and take it from someone who went through something traumatizing as well: you can’t move forward with your life if you keep living in the past. As hard as it is, and I _know_ that it’s hard, you have to put it behind you and accept the fact that no matter how much you regret something or how much you wish you could’ve done something differently, you _cannot_ change what happened,” she says and exhales loudly. “But you _can_ change your future.”

He stares at her for a long time, his intense blue eyes locked on hers, before he finally nods slowly. “You're right.”

She knows that despite his agreement he’ll still carry his guilt around with him for the rest of his life, just as she’ll always have her own regrets about the whole Cooper situation, but at least he’s willing to try and get past his demons.

“Sooo,” she hums into the silence, “Do you wanna watch some Game of Thrones?”

“Yeah,” he smiles at her, grateful for the change of topic, “let’s do that.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **ARROW ⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 

Two hours later, they’ve just started the third episode of Game of Thrones in a row. If he’s being honest, he has no idea what happened in the previous two. His brain just doesn’t seem to be able to really focus on what’s going on on the screen, too busy trying to process everything that happened tonight.

Usually, he’d run, seek out solitude to process and decide what to do next. He'd crave the peace and quiet of his home, isolating himself from the world and his friends instead of wanting to be close to anyone. Or maybe that’s just anyone that isn’t Felicity. Because he definitely wants to be close to her.

Maybe it’s partly to catch up on two lost weeks of not seeing her, not even communicating with her. Maybe it’s just because she’s always had this effect on him. This inexplicable pull.

It doesn’t really matter, he realizes, sneaking a glance at the blonde resting against his shoulder. This is exactly where he wants to be: with her curled into his side, back on good terms, his dog keeping watch by his feet. Listening to her constant, colorful commentary (because these are old episodes and she's already seen them and has taken it upon herself to give him all the behind the scenes scoop she knows about) and seeing her just as content as he feels, makes his heart soar with hope.

Hope for more.

Now that they’ve put Slade behind them and cleared the air, he can finally allow himself to dream of a future with her again. They both needed tonight’s talk, and maybe even the two week separation, as painful as it’d been, to move their friendship along. Even though, ‘friendship’ doesn’t quite seem to cover what’s between them. But defining their relationship is a topic for another night.

For now, he’s just happy and relieved that she forgave him for not confiding in her sooner. Even though he didn’t tell her the whole story tonight —leaving out how his agent and lawyers had shielded him from the police and press, how Slade had cornered him and threatened to come after him one day, how he’s been having nightmares for well over a year— she’d seemed satisfied by his sparse answers. Her beautiful brain had probably just pieced the rest together, completing the story without having him go through it all again.

Talking about Rose and that fateful night had been hard. Facing his failure had been painful and taxing. But it had also been liberating in a way. Sharing the burden with Felicity had made him feel lighter and happier than he had in a very long time and he’s glad that she pushed him to this point.

He can feel her head turn until her chin rests on his shoulder, looking straight at him. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah,” he smiles at her, having to crane his neck a little to look at her.

“You got thinky face,” she explains, her index finger coming up to tap gently against the spot between his eyebrows where he knows a crease must’ve formed.

“Thinky face?” he grins down at her.

“Yup,” she agrees, nodding happily. “Makes your face look all edgy and handsome.”

“So when I don’t have my thinky face, I’m not handsome?”

“Well, I mean, you’re not _terrible_ to look at,” she hedges playfully.

He narrows his eyes, pretending to be hurt. “There you go trampling over my ego again, Smoak. You're ruthless.”

“Aww,” she coos, patting his cheek, “Shouldn’t you be glad that I see that there’s more to you than just your looks?”

He considers her answers and grins unapologetically. “What can I say? I’m a greedy man. I want it all.”

She snorts adorably into his shoulder and shakes her head in laughter. “Beauty fades, anyway. There’s no point in relying too much on being beautiful.”

“Oh, so now we’re back to calling me beautiful? That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles and hides her nose in his shoulder, but not before he can see the slight tinge of color rising on her cheeks.

“It seems that we’ve come full circle since our elevator meeting,” he laughs and quickly presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

She grumbles something intelligible in the fabric of his shirt and shakes her head before speaking up, “So what were you thinking about?”

You.

“The future,” he answers vaguely, disappointed that their playful moment is over.

“Anything good planned?” she asks, placing her chin back on his shoulder while waiting for his answer.

She's probably talking about his private life, but since she’s hopefully a big part of that and he’s not quite ready to broach the subject of their relationship, he decides to stick to his professional life for now.

“I’m still weighing my options. I’ve gotten quite a few scripts from my agent that I’ve read, but I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

“You should try to get on Game of Thrones,” she suggest jokingly, nodding towards the screen.

“Already had an offer from them.”

“Shut. The. Front. Door!” she exclaims, her head whipping up while she maneuvers herself into an upright position and he wants to kick himself for saying something that would break their physical connection. “Tell me you did _not_ turn down a role in Game of Thrones, Oliver. I don’t know if this whole friendship thing between us would work out if I knew that you committed an unforgivable crime like that.”

So apparently, they've made it to a place where they can joke about the status of their friendship again? Wait, she _is_ joking, right?

Suddenly nervous, he scratches the back of his neck. “Well, there were some scheduling issues because I was filming another project at the time.”

“Which role did they offer you?” she demands eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement. “Any chance they’ll hit you up again in the future?”

“If I told you, I’m pretty sure they’d send assassins after me _and_ you,” he chuckles. “They're super secretive and tight-lipped about this stuff. I could probably get in trouble for just mentioning it.”

She rests her chin on his shoulder once more, sticking out her bottom lip defiantly and staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Are you _pouting_?” he asks, barely holding back his laughter (and the urge to kiss that pout right off her lips).

“I wanna knooooow,” she whines, fluttering her eyelashes in hopes of changing his mind.

“Sorry, not gonna happen,” he shrugs. When she huffs into his shoulder in defeated displeasure he tilts his head to the side. “Any way I can make it up to you?”

She sighs in defeat and lifts her chin off his shoulder, mirroring his head tilt. “Well, you _do_ still owe me that elusive massage.”

“Say the word and I’ll grab the promised bottle of wine and the massage oil from my apartment,” he says maybe a little bit too eagerly.

She chuckles softly, but he doesn't miss her cheeks turning a bit darker. “Nah, not tonight. I’d probably fall asleep within two minutes and I definitely wanna be awake when you finally put your hands on me… That came out wrong,” she groans.

“Turn around,” he orders after he swallows down a wave of lust when he pictures where he’d _like_ to put his hands on her.

“What?”

“Turn around,” he repeats, motioning for her to turn her back towards him. “I’ll give you a little preview to tide you over.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, more color rising in her cheeks before she turns around, coming to sit on the edge of the couch right between his opened legs.

And, oh shit, he didn’t think this through, he realizes with a bout of panic when she sweeps her open hair over her shoulder so it’s out of his way.

He wills his hands to stop shaking and brings them up to rest on her shoulders. Too late to back down now.

With the cloth of her shirt separating his fingers from her skin, the friction isn’t quite right and his movements start out a little awkward when his fingertips catch on the fabric, but he soon finds a good rhythm, digging softly into the flesh around her shoulders and neck.

It doesn’t even take twenty seconds before he has to admit that this was a stupid, _stupid_ idea!

Little preview? More like complete torture!

Her head has lolled forward to her chest, a soft mewl or groan coming from her lips in such sweet, torturous intervals that have him going absolutely crazy in a matter of seconds.

How the fuck did he ever think this would be a good idea? Scratch that! How the fuck did he ever think he’d survive this? He's not even touching her skin and he's about ten seconds away from exploding in his pants.

If she doesn't stop making those almost pornographic sounds soon, no court in the world will be able to hold him responsible for his actions.

“Can you go a little to the right?” she moans, yes, she fucking _moans_ , and he moves his hands to the spot. “Yes, right there, Oliver.”

Hearing her moan his name is what finally makes him snap.

He's not sure how he does it, but suddenly she’s lying flat on the couch and he’s on top of her, panting heavily, his weight balanced on his forearms. She's staring up at him in total surprise and he's about to backpedal (because his behavior is totally something he could explain…) when he sees a wave of desire flicker through her blue eyes, darkening them instantly.

Fuck, does she want this, too? Because he definitely wants this, _her_ , and he’s pretty sure she can feel the evidence of that pressing right into her thigh.

Never breaking eye contact, he licks his lips and closes the distance between their faces until his lips are barely a hairbreadth away from hers, feeling their hot breaths mingle in the miniscule space between them.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, his lips touching hers for a millisecond as he speaks.

One last out. After this, all bets are off. No more holding back. No more pushing down of feelings.

He hears her swallow, her forehead creases together as she presses herself deeper into the couch, creating a little more space between them so they can look at each other better.

She's past her surprise and there’s nothing but determination in her beautiful blue eyes when she takes a deep breath to whisper, “I don’t want you to stop.”

He searches her eyes, trying to find _anything_ in them to contradict her statement, any kind of doubt or uncertainty about what they’re about to do, but all he finds is excitement and clarity.

He smiles at her happily, watching in fascination as her eyes slide shut in anticipation as he closes the distance between them once more.

_Ding dong!_

The sudden sound of the doorbell has Oliver reeling back, his eyes flitting from the foyer back to Felicity. Next to them, Arcus scrambles up from his spot on the floor, making a beeline for the source of their interruption.

_Ding dong!_

He lets his forehead drop to her collarbone, exhaling a deep, annoyed breath that he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

“Is it just me or is the universe conspiring against us?” he groans loudly, fully aware that he probably sounds like a petulant child that just dropped his ice cream.

Her body shakes when she chuckles. “It's probably just Cait and Iris checking in,” she explains, bringing up one hand to rake through his short hair. “I told them I’d call tonight.”

He lifts his head, taking in her half amused, half frustrated smile. “Can we just ignore them and wait ‘til they give up and go home?”

She huffs out another laugh, but shakes her head, letting her fingers ghost over his cheek. “They're too stubborn for that. They’ll want to see proof that I’m okay.”

“I don’t like your friends,” he grumbles, his nose bumping softly into hers. Obviously, that’s a blatant lie. He's glad that she has friends like the two women that look out for her and stick by her side no matter what. But their timing could be better.

“I’ll just let them know I’m okay and we can continue this in about two minutes,” she assures him, biting her bottom lip nervously, right as the doorbell rings for the third time.

He nods in resignation, knowing that there’s no way around this. Not wanting to end up completely empty-handed, he leans down and plants his lips against her cheek for a few seconds.

“To be continued,” Felicity promises and pecks his cheek quickly before wriggling out from under him to make her way to the door where Arcus is already waiting patiently.

Oliver sits up, letting his head fall against the backrest of the couch, exhaling slowly.

What a rollercoaster of a night.

When he hears footsteps approaching the living room, his head swivels around, eyes flying open in nervous anticipation of the rest of the night.

His blossoming smile instantly slips off his lips when he sees that Felicity isn’t alone. “Oliver Queen,” the man from her past snarls. “I thought it was about time we finally met.”

Oliver’s up from the couch in an instant, but the other man is prepared and lifts the gun, that Oliver just now realizes was trained on Felicity, and aims it straight at him. “Now, now, _Ollie_ , no need to pretend to be a hero from one of your action flicks. Sit down.” He waves the gun at the couch, giving Felicity a push that sends her barreling into Oliver who catches her easily and guides them both down to sit, her hand securely clutched in his. “And you better tell your mutt to lie down and be quiet. If he so much as twitches, I’ll be happy to put a few bullets in him.”

Oliver’s gaze lands on Arcus who’d followed the two back into the living room, eyeing the unwelcome guest suspiciously, but remaining calm for now. A simple hand gesture is enough to make him lie down next to the couch, eagerly awaiting more commands from his master.

“What do you want, Cooper?” Felicity spits out, anger mixing with fear.

“What I’ve always wanted, babe,” Cooper replies with an evil grin. “Revenge.”

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger warning. There's a short non-con situation and talk of rape later in this chap. Nothing too explicit, and nothing really happens, but please proceed with caution.

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

_“What do you want, Cooper?” Felicity spits out, anger mixing with fear._

_“What I’ve always wanted, babe,” Cooper replies with an evil grin. “Revenge.”_

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Panic is bubbling in her chest. But not like before. Not like all the nightmares she's had or like the last time she saw him at Oliver's birthday party. No, it's different.

She's scared. Of course, she is. This man put her through hell six years ago and the memory has haunted her ever since. But for the first time she's not scared for herself and what he might do to her. She's terrified of what he could do to Oliver and Arcus as a way of hurting her.

"You can still leave, Cooper," she tries, hoping her voice sounds steadier to him than to her own ears. "I'll give you however much money you want and you can disappear, lie on the beach somewhere."

He scoffs. "That won't quite cut it, babe. I would've agreed to that a few years ago, but now, I want more." He steps closer, smiling that devious smile of his. "Now, I want to see you suffer for what you did to me. I want you to see your life crumble right in front of you, just like I did when you sent the entire fucking country after me."

He's crazy. He's absolutely batshit crazy.

What else is new?

"You brought that on yourself when you stole from me and tried to kill me," she grits out despite knowing that she shouldn't aggravate him further.

He regards her intently, a slow semi-surprised, semi-satisfied smirk turning up the corners of his lips. "You've become sassier. I like that. I wonder if that’s the case in all parts of life. You were always so timid and boring in the sack when we were together, all that black makeup and clothes just a cover to hide your insecure, little self behind. But now, I think I'm gonna have some _real_ fun with you."

She can feel the rest of the little color drain from her face. Is he saying what she thinks he's saying?

Oliver tenses even more beside her, the slight pressure on her hand unwavering. A quick squeeze stops him from giving Cooper a piece of his mind. Now's not the time. As long as he has that fucking gun in his hand they can't do anything without risking at least one of them getting hurt.

They need a plan to get out of this mess!

"Nothing to say, lover boy?" Cooper taunts, clearly having picked up on Oliver's spiked anger. "Is she sweet and vanilla with you or does she show you her inner freak when you fuck her?"

Oliver's hand twitches dangerously in hers. "Oliver," she warns, trying to get him to calm down before he does something stupid and makes everything worse.

"Oh, so she wears the pants in the relationship, huh?" Cooper laughs. "Do you get off on getting bossed around by her?"

"You little piece of shit," Oliver growls. "I'll make you regret ever coming back into her life."

"Actually," Cooper drawls, pointing the gun at him, "the only thing you're gonna do is _watch_." Before either one of them can react to his threat, he just goes on, "Felicity, why don't you come over here and take the handcuffs that I brought out of my pocket?"

At her slight hesitation, he takes a step closer, grinding his teeth together in impatience. " _Now_ or your boyfriend will have to prove that surviving a gunshot wound isn't just movie magic."

Wrenching her hand out of Oliver's, she staggers to her feet, closing the distance between her and the psychopath she once thought she was in love with. Oh, how foolish and blind she’d been.

"Go on, don't be shy now, babe," he prompts when she stands before him, nodding his head downwards to his right side. Trying her best not to let her disgust show too much –that would probably give him even more satisfaction— she retrieves two pairs of steel handcuffs from one of the pockets of his black cargo pants with shaking fingers.

“Good girl,” he drawls, smirking down at her. “Now grab a chair from the dining table and bring it over here.”

She walks over to the table with slow, measured steps, trying to buy them some time. Once they’re handcuffed their chances of getting out of this unharmed will probably plummet to zero. She feels a sudden surge of hope when her eyes fall on her trusty tablet lying on the table “Nuh-uh, babe, don't even bother. I'm jamming all incoming and outgoing signals,” Cooper immediately bursts her bubble.

Resigned and with a crushing feeling of desperation she grabs one of the chairs and drags it over to him, frantically trying to come up with an idea before it’s too late and she’s incapacitated. There has to be _some_ way to get out of this.

“Oliver,” he turns his attention to the other man in the room, “come, take a seat.”

Arcus lifts his head in anticipation when Oliver gets up from the couch, waiting for a command with alert eyes trained on his owner. “Ahh, tell your mutt to stay down,” Cooper warns and Oliver promptly holds out his hand to keep his dog calm while he reluctantly sits down on the chair.

“Cuff him to it,” Cooper orders Felicity. “One pair of cuffs on each hand.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She'd held on to a little sliver of hope that Oliver might be able to put his action movie knowledge to good use and somehow get out of his cuffs while she distracts her crazy ex and they’d have the element of surprise on their side. But now as she carefully puts the metal cuffs around his wrists and lightly fastens each hand to either side of the chair, she has no idea how he could possibly get out of them, not when Cooper leans down to tighten them until they dig into Oliver’s flesh.

One quick glance at his disheartened face tells her that Oliver had probably had a similar idea.

What now?

“And what should I do with you?” Cooper sneers, pinching her chin between his thumb and index finger, letting his eyes run over her body in such an agonizingly slow way that it makes her skin crawl.

God, she just hates that he still has that power over her. Just being in the same room with him is enough to make her stomach turn into knots, but having him touch her, having him look at her like he’s ready to rip her clothes off, consent be damned, almost paralyzes her with fear.

 _Almost_.

Six years ago she would’ve given up and submitted to him. Fuck, six years she _did_ give up and submitted to him.

She's not going to make that mistake again!

 _Buy some time_ , she tells herself, knowing that if she stalls long enough someone will get suspicious of why they can’t reach her, right?

“Well, you could fill in some blanks and tell me how the fuck you even got past the lobby,” she bites out, wrenching her face out of his grip and taking a step back.

“Did you really think it’d be hard to get past those gorillas down there?” he scoffs, taking the bait. “Please. All I had to do was hack into their database and add my alias to the approved visitors list. Their cyber security was so laughable I could’ve done it with my eyes closed. Unlike your system, that one actually gave me a headache.”

Her system? So he really was the one that hacked her last month? This story should keep him busy for a while. After all, he always liked to talk about himself and his hacking achievements. And as long as she keeps him talking he’s not doing anything else.

“So you’re the asshole that hacked me?” she questions and sits down on the couch, finding comfort in having Arcus so close by her side. And with any luck Cooper would…

Yup, right on cue, he steps closer, standing in between her and Oliver, turning his back to the other man which will hopefully give him the chance to come up with a way to get out of those stupid handcuffs.

_Perfect! Now just keep him talking and distracted._

In her peripheral vision she can make out movement from Oliver who’s seemingly caught on to her idea and is looking for a way to get free, and she has to summon every last drop of willpower to keep her eyes on Cooper so she doesn’t give his efforts away.

“Yes, that was me,” Cooper smiles arrogantly. “It was just a test run, of course, to gauge your reaction and response time.”

“How did you get in?”

He scoffs again. “That was shockingly easy as well. Just had to send your receptionist an email from her sister’s address with a little attachment that created a back door I could use when she opened it. You should really have a talk with your employees about cyber security precautions at the workplace.”

God damnit, Chloe, she groans inwardly at her naïve employee.

“So you had your back door. Why not go for it then?” she genuinely wonders. “As much as I hate to admit it, you have decent enough skills. With some time to prepare and the element of surprise you could’ve done some serious damage instead of just poking around here and there.”

“Well, my plan was to launch the real attack from the Queen Consolidated servers since their processing power outweighs yours and after hearing about your business history with the Queens, I thought it’d be nice and symbolic to have the attack be traced back to them,” he shrugs carelessly.

“So that’s why you got that job. But what was your ultimate goal? Steal my code and sell it as your own?” she goads him, trying to get a nice, long-winded answer out of him.

“This was just the first step in my plan. Destroy your career, your legacy, everything you’re so damn proud of. Strip all your success and all your achievements away and see what’s left,” he says with a devilish smile that slowly turns sour. “It was the perfect plan and I could’ve destroyed everything you’ve ever worked on, but you had to go and kill that plan.”

She assumes he probably means inadvertently burning his new identity at the Queen mansion, but decides to play dumb to buy Oliver and whoever could possibly come to their rescue more time. “Oh? Not that I’m not happy about it, but how so?”

If he realizes that she’s keeping him talking on purpose, he doesn’t show it and instead reveals, “I didn't expect you at that damn party,” he grumbles. “You burned my cover and forced me to waste years of preparation and meticulous planning. But on the bright side, I found out something new about you. It was only then that I realized that your connection with Oliver was so much deeper than I originally thought. From hacking his phone I already knew that you two had met and were regularly meeting, but I didn’t think there would ever be more than friendship. So I started looking into him more closely and was delighted to find the literal skeleton in his closet.”

“But how? His people seem to have buried it deep enough that the press hasn't gotten wind of it and that means that it’s buried _very_ deep,” Felicity points out.

“Your bodyguard, actually.” Behind him, Oliver stills his discrete movements. Wait, Diggle knew about Oliver’s past? Did Oliver know Diggle knew about his past?

“I paid some kid to get close enough to him to give me a chance to hack his phone and I found enough clues of his little investigation into your little boy toy to know that it was worthy looking into. It took some time, but eventually, I unearthed the whole story. Police officers these days are so easy to bribe into talking,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Dig looked into you? And he knew about Rose?” she asks, surprised, looking right past Cooper and at Oliver.

“Yeah, he looked into me when we started getting closer to make sure I was a good guy. Because of your past experiences with men, you know,” he explains, shooting Cooper a deathly glare when he turns around briefly.

“How’re those handcuffs, Queen? Still snug enough or should I tighten them a little bit?”

“I’d love to tell you but I’d still need to have any feeling left in my hands,” Oliver bites out angrily.

Cooper turns his attention back to her with a satisfied grin at that and even she believes Oliver for a very long, disheartening second before he winks at her and then mouthes, “More time.” At least she hopes that that’s what he's trying to tell her, because that would mean that he’s making progress in getting out of those fucking cuffs.

_Alright, get him back on track, Felicity._

“Okay, so when your other plans failed you came up with this?” she questions, motioning around. “Just barge in here and take us hostage? That seems a little sloppy after all the trouble and planning you went through for your previous schemes.”

“You missed a step, babe,” he points out smugly, waiting for her to piece the puzzle together with a raised eyebrow.

What? Which step of his evil master plan did she miss?

Oh shit.

Slade.

“You were the one that sent Slade after us?” she asks, mouth hanging open.

“Very good deduction,” he praises her smugly. “When I found out about the chick’s death, I looked into her life and got in touch with Slade. He jumped at the chance to get some revenge on lover boy and I figured why not kill two birds with one stone, all while keeping my hands clean?” he shrugs carelessly.

“So you sent him after us to kill me and make it look like revenge? That’s your big climax for this stupid, fucking plan of yours? Just have me gunned down in some alley and be done with it? After all the trouble you went through to destroy my career and reputation?”

“No, that wasn’t the plan,” he yells, locking his jaw angrily. “He was supposed to kidnap you two and bring you to me so you could give me access to all of your work. I had it all planned. I wanted to take my time, torture Oliver right in front of you until you cracked and gave up all your secrets. Then Slade could’ve killed you to get his revenge on Oliver and everything would’ve been perfect.”

He's pacing now, anger rolling off of him in waves. “But no. NO! That fucking fool let his own agenda get in the way and he went off-script when he tried to kill you right there in the street instead of doing as I told him.” His voice calms eerily fast before he continues, “I had to punish him for that, of course.”

“Punish him?” she breathes out, a dark suspicion forming in her mind.

“Well, I had to make sure that he didn’t wake up from that coma and throw me under the bus, so I went to the hospital and gave him a healthy dose of Plenzamine to make it look like his heart finally failed him.”  

“You killed him.”

Why does it still surprise her how evil and ruthless this man is? He almost killed her in Boston, he planned to destroy her entire life, planned on torturing Oliver and having her killed, threatened to hurt Arcus. But still, after all that, she still can’t believe that he actually committed a premeditated murder.

And now that he’s proven to himself and her that he’s capable and willing to go through with killing someone, then what could possibly keep him from finally killing her and maybe even Oliver tonight to complete his vengeance?

Nothing.

Fuck! They really need to find a way to stop him. If Oliver can’t get out of the cuffs and if no one else comes to their rescue, then Felicity _needs_ to find a way to get that gun away from him. That’s the only leverage he has over them. Without it, he’ll just be the pathetic little shit that he is.

“But hey,” Cooper’s slimy voice drags her back to the present, “maybe it was all meant to be like this. At least now I get to have some fun with you before I kill you.” He steps right into her personal space and drags the cold metal of the gun’s tip over her cheek. “I must admit, fucking all those hookers over the years while I was on the run was quite a dull affair. They’re so pliant and eager to please, do whatever you pay them to do.”

He lets his eyes run over her shivering body and licks his lips in anticipation that almost makes her gag. “But _you_ … you I’ll have some _real_ fun with. And we’ll even have an audience. Isn’t that fun? Do you think he’ll enjoy watching me fuck you?” He moves his free hand to cup her breast and she lets her eyes fall shut, trying to block out Cooper and the increasingly louder and more vulgar protests from Oliver.

“Will you enjoy watching us, _Ollie_?” Cooper raises his voice, his hot breath running over her cheek.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Oliver yells, his tone more hateful than she’s ever heard it before.

“Or what?” Cooper taunts and tugs at the hem of her shirt. “Take it off, babe.”

“Don’t do it, Felicity. Please don’t do it,” Oliver pleads with her, even though they both know what will happen if she doesn’t comply.

“Don’t test my patience, babe,” Cooper threatens and his cold hand clamps down on her mouth and nose, making her eyes fly open in shock at the sudden lack of oxygen. “Take it off.”

As much as she’s trying to block him out, she can still hear Oliver’s pleading in the background, but what is she supposed to do? Let him get shot before she gets shot? What then? If there’s even the tiniest chance that her compliance with Cooper’s sick demands will buy him enough time to get free then it’ll be worth it.

With trembling fingers she lifts the shirt over her head, letting it drop uselessly to her lap. A slow smirk spreads over Cooper’s lips and he drags the gun from her cheek over her neck and down between her breasts until he presses the tip into the waistband of her jeans.

“Off.”

“Felicity,” Oliver tries again.

“That’s quite enough, lover boy,” Cooper decides, taking a step away from her and grabbing her shirt.

The panic and desperation are clear as day in Oliver, shining from his watery eyes with an intensity that makes an involuntary shiver run down her spine. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers just before Cooper pushes her balled up shirt into his mouth as a makeshift gag.

Suddenly she _knows_. He can’t get out of the handcuffs. He can’t help her. That’s why he apologized.

The crushing weight of panic settles on her chest. They might actually not get out this situation.

“Where were we?” Cooper asks, striding towards her. “Ah, yes, you were about to take your pants off for me.”

 _I refuse to let him take over my life again and I refuse to live in constant fear._ That’s what she told Oliver after sharing her past with him on his birthday.

 _I refuse to let him take over my life again!_ She meant those words. She believed those words.

Time to live by them.

She swallows down her panic, takes a few controlled breaths and focuses her mind on the one task at hand: getting his gun.

She spares one glance at Oliver whose muffled protest she really needs to shut out if she wants to concentrate on taking down Cooper. Even from ten feet away she can see the muscles of his jaw working overtime. Is he trying to get the cloth out of his mouth? Maybe that could be the split second of distraction she needs to grab the gun.

Suddenly, she’s violently thrown back into the couch and Cooper’s weight lands straight on her, pinning her down into the cushions.

“Take off your fucking pants, Felicity,” he shouts into her ear, the sudden loud noise startling her. And also Arcus apparently, because he lets out the short bark, grabbing Cooper’s attention and giving her the perfect opportunity to strike.

Several things happen next in quick succession. Her knee shoots up and nails him straight in the groin with as much force as she can muster, her hand closes around the cold metal of the gun and she yanks as hard as she can, the sudden movement apparently taking Cooper by surprise because his grip on the weapon is too loose and she actually manages to rip it away from him. But before she can turn the tables on him and point it at him, his hand reaches out and knocks it out of her shaking fingers in a failed attempt to get it back, making it fly to the ground a few feet away from the couch instead.

“ARCUS, ATTACK!” she hears Oliver’s voice roar through the apartment after he’s finally gotten rid of her shirt.

Arcus, who’s been waiting for any sign from his owner the entire night, jumps up, letting out a terrifying growl as he lunges his 110-pound monstrosity of a body at Cooper, his powerful jaws closing around his forearm in a complete death grip that has Cooper crying out in pain.

Felicity seizes the moment of distraction and scrambles off the couch, diving for the gun on the ground and pointing it at her ex with surprisingly steady hands, at the same moment that her apartment door flies open with a deafening bang and Dig storms in with what looks like his entire security team dressed in full tactical gear.

There’s a flurry of activity around her, men with machine guns running past her, a lot of “clear”s being yelled out, but she can barely hear any of it over the rushing in her ears. All she can see is Cooper being wrestled to the ground by two guys when Arcus finally lets go of his arm. All she can feel is the cold breeze from the door, making goosebumps erupt on her naked skin.

It's Diggle’s warm, reassuring voice that finally makes it through her muddled brain a few seconds later. “It's over.”

 

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 

Cooper is flanked by two guards, still crying out in pain and clutching his mauled, bloody arm to his chest. Arcus has taken up his usual spot on the dog bed she bought for him, his eyes darting across the room as he’s keeping watch over everybody.

They can’t find the keys for the handcuffs, proving the horrible suspicion that Cooper never planned on letting either of them go again, so one of Dig’s guys just cuts the little chain with bolt cutters and finally frees Oliver from the chair.

He stalks past Dig and wraps his arms around her in an almost painful bear hug. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help,” he whispers in her ear, the pain and guilt evident in his voice.

His touch does what it always does: it grounds her. One second, she’s still in a haze and the next, she’s in his arms, feeling calm and collected. How does he have this effect on her?

Dig clears his throat next to them. “How about you do _that_ later?” he suggests. “We’ll do a quick debrief and then I can get all my guys out of here.”

“Okay,” Felicity agrees, reluctant to step away from Oliver’s reassuring warmth but the prospect of getting Cooper the fuck out of her apartment and out of her life outweighs that minor inconvenience. “How did you know?”

“Cait tried to call you and when she got immediately sent to voice mail every time on your cell phone and your home line she got worried and called me so I could check up on you. Got here, checked in with the security desk and had them show me the camera footage when they mentioned that you had a visitor. When I saw that it was Cooper, I got my guys ready and came up here asap,” he explains.

She nods gratefully. “Perfect timing, I’d say.” She quickly gives him the cliff notes, telling him about Cooper gathering all the intel on them, being behind the hacker attack, orchestrating the car crash, killing Slade.

“Have you called the police?” Oliver asks worriedly when she finishes, taking her hand in his.

She and Dig quickly share a look, arriving at the same conclusion. “Remember that favor Lyla owes me?” Felicity asks and her friend nods immediately. “I think it’s time I cashed it in.”

“I’ll call her right away, boss,” Dig replies with a solemn nod.

“What’s going on?” Oliver questions as he watches Dig take a few steps away to make the call.

“It's probably for the best if you don’t know.”

“Fe-li-city,” he drawls out with a sigh, tilting his head to the side.

“Fine,” she caves in. “There’s this secret government agency that owes me big time and they’ll take care of him.”

“As in, kill him?” he gulps.

“Nooo,” she chuckles, swatting at his chest lightly. “I hate him, but I don’t want his death on my conscience. They’ll lock him up someplace where he will never be able to hurt anyone again.”

“Oh-kay.” He doesn’t sound completely convinced by her vague explanation.

“I know this is kind of in a gray moral area and I’m not a fan of taking away someone’s right to a fair trial, but his guilt is irrefutable. And after his very lengthy confession tonight we both know that and I’d rather not give him the stage and attention of a public trial to talk about my past or about yours, for that matter.”

“Hey,” he sighs and cups her face with his large hands, the remnants of the handcuffs still hanging uselessly around his wrists. “If you think this is the best solution, I’m all for it.”

“I do think this is for the best,” she admits, stepping on her tiptoes to lean her forehead against his. “I trust Lyla a hundred per cent and I know she’ll do anything to make sure he stays locked up and far away from anyone. With that peace of mind I feel like I can finally put this all behind me and live my life again without having to wonder if he’ll break out and come after me again.”

“Secret government agency prison it is,” he agrees and smiles at her softly.

They stand like that for a few minutes, just breathing each other in, letting it sink in that it really is over, forgetting about the chaos around them for a little while. After all the craziness of the last few months they can finally breathe easy and think about the future.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he breaks the silence in a soft whisper.

“I know, but can we just take the rest of this horribly long night –or morning? I don’t even know what time it is— and the day tomorrow to sleep and relax and just take a deep breath?” she asks, not waiting for a reaction before continuing, “Please, don’t take this as a rejection. I really liked where we were headed earlier and I definitely want to continue what we started before Cooper came crashing back into my life. But for now, I just need a little time to myself to process, or at least _try_ to process, what happened here tonight and what that means for my life.”

He smiles down at her and nods, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You take all the time you need. I’ll be right here.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	17. Chapter 17

_“We have a lot to talk about,” he breaks the silence in a soft whisper._

_“I know, but can we just take the rest of this horribly long night –or morning? I don’t even know what time it is— and the day tomorrow to sleep and relax and just take a deep breath?” she asks, not waiting for a reaction before continuing, “Please don’t take this as a rejection. I really liked where we were headed earlier and I definitely want to continue what we started before Cooper came crashing back into my life. But for now, I just need a little time to myself to process, or at least try to process, what happened here tonight and what that means for my life.”_

_He smiles down at her and nods, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You take all the time you need. I’ll be right here.”_

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Leaving her apartment that night -or rather early morning- takes all the willpower he can muster. If it’d been up to him, he would've stayed with her for the rest of the night, preferably while having his arms wrapped around her the whole time.

He'd only gotten to hug her for an entirely too short moment after one of Diggle's men had freed him from that fucking chair he'd been chained to while Felicity had been left to take on Cooper on her own.

He'd felt so completely and utterly _useless_.

Even now, fifteen hours after the fact, the powerless feeling is still lingering deep within his bones.

He couldn't help her. He couldn't stand up for her. Couldn't fight for her. Couldn't even defend her with words.

He'd tried his best to get out of the cuffs. He really had. But the damn things had been so _tight_.

Maybe he could've avoided getting cuffed in the first place. Maybe he could've broken the chair somehow and used it as a weapon. Maybe he could've...

 _Stop!_ his mind screams at him. _There was nothing you could've done, not without risking her life._

Logically, he _knows_ that there wasn't anything he really could've done. If this had been one of his movies, he would've gotten out of those cuffs in 2.5 seconds and saved the day without even breaking a sweat. But alas, it hadn't been one of his movies and he'd just been a helpless human being instead of a fearless superhero.

So yes, he damn well knows that there's nothing he could've done, but he still feels inadequate and like he failed her.

He couldn't protect her. And that right there is a crushing fact to accept. In a way, the feeling of helplessness and defeat had been akin to what he'd felt when he'd watched Rose take her life.

Defeated by his own mind, he steps off the treadmill and grabs a towel to wipe the drops of sweat off his face and chest, the grueling workout session having done little to take his mind off everything that happened and, maybe more importantly, off Felicity.

He hasn’t heard from her at all today. Again, his brain can comprehend that she's just doing exactly what she told him last night: taking some time to process. But a tiny part of him had still held onto a little sliver of hope that she’d reach out, prompting him to check his phone in embarrassingly short intervals.

All day, his fingers have been itching to just pick up his phone and call her, just to hear her voice and make sure she’s doing okay. But he hasn’t, and it damn near tears him apart to stay away from her.

Maybe he can bring over some food tonight, if only to see her for a couple of minutes and make sure that she’s eating and taking care of herself. Yes, he can definitely do that.

With a renewed feeling of hope he grabs his gym bag and marches towards the changing rooms that connect to the building’s swimming pool area. A nice long swim should be enough to kill a little more time and keep his mind and body busy until he can make the trip to DiMario’s and pick up some takeout.

Changed into his swimming trunks, he smiles politely at the two older women that he passes on his way to the pool, only to stop dead in his tracks when he reaches the edge. Right there, not twenty feet away from him, gracefully moving in the water is the woman he’s been trying to keep from his mind all day. In a two-piece bikini.

Fucking hell.

Nope.

Abort mission. Right fucking now.

With as much grace as he can muster (read: _none_ ) in his dire need to get his lower body half covered by _something_ , he throws his towel to the side and jumps quickly into the pool with a loud and slightly painful splash. Yup, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is why people call him Oliver ‘Smooth Ladies Man’ Queen….

Reluctantly, he surfaces after a few seconds, seriously debating whether he should just make a run for it or, ya know, _drown_...

“Well, that was quite an entrance, Mr. Queen,” Felicity snorts beside him, her eyes shining with barely held back glee. “No wonder that women keep throwing themselves at you left and right.”

“Actually, I think I should get some pretty amazing execution scores on that one,” he argues playfully, hoping his cheeks aren’t too red.

“In a belly flop contest maybe.”

“I did _not_ belly flop!” he almost growls back in indignation, but only elicits a delighted laugh from her.

“Tell that to the angry red marks on your chest.”

He looks down at his reddening skin and sighs inwardly. Thoroughly embarrassing yourself in front of your crush? Check!

“Fine,” he grumbles in defeat, knowing there’s no way to talk himself out of this one.

She smiles indulgently at him, deciding to drop the subject to his eternal relief. “Swim a few laps with me?” she offers, nodding her head towards the other end of the pool.

He nods his agreement and they push off the wall and settle on a leisurely pace for a good ten or eleven laps, swimming right next to each other. And yeah, he may or may not let himself drift into her path a few times, prompting little touches here and there. The all too short moments of skin on skin contact are enough to transport him back to the more enjoyable part of last night when he’d gotten oh so close to finally kissing her.

"Queen," she says in an incredibly adorable growly voice when they reach the pool wall again and he just happens to be right in front of her, causing her to almost crash into him. _Whoops_.

"Smoak," he retorts with an innocent smile, turning to face her.

"You keep zigzagging into my lane," she accuses him with a poke to his chest that makes him float into the wall behind him.

"What? Noooo," he feigns innocence. "Actually, I think _you're_ the one zigzagging into _my_ lane."

"Am not," she throws back indignantly and swims closer, emphasizing her point with another poke to his chest and a little splash. "Don't twist the facts, mister."

"Or what?" he challenges, his calm voice betraying the turmoil in his stomach.

She narrows her eyes, biting her bottom lip in silent contemplation. Shit, she really needs to stop that... or back away a couple of inches.

If he hadn't been looking at her in complete fascination, awaiting his proposed punishment, he would've missed the flicker of _something_ running over her features and the way her breath catches for a millisecond before a mischievous smile pulls at her lips and she backs away.

Damn it.

"Can I borrow Arcus for the next two hours?" she asks nonchalantly, treading water a couple of feet away from him.

Huh?

Where did this one-eighty come from? Did he do something wrong?

"Uhhh... What?" he asks dumbly, blinking a few times.

"I wanna borrow Arcus for a little bit," she repeats, her eyes aflame with the same _something_ as before. Determination maybe? She looks like she has a plan. But what for?

"Now?"

"Yup," she says gleefully, and it's hard to hold onto his disappointment at the sudden space between them when she's wearing that infectious smile of hers. "You'll get him back as soon as possible, I promise. I just wanna run some errands."

"Errands? Felicity, it's almost 6pm on a Saturday."

"Let me worry about that," she throws back with a wink and suddenly surges forward, closing the distance between them until her hands cup his face gently, her entire body _so_ close to his while she's treading water. "Are you free tonight?"

Huh. Did she say something? He's pretty sure his brain short-circuited at the sudden feeling of her pretty much naked body touching his equally pretty much naked body and all he can hear is a faint buzzing noise in his ears.

"Oliver?" Her thumbs stroke across his stubbled cheeks in a maddeningly enticing pattern.

"Yeah. Yes. I’m free for you,” he stutters and _really_ wants to punch himself. In the face. “ _Tonight_. I’m free tonight.”

“Perfect,” she smiles softly at him.

“What… what do you have in mind?”

“I’ll surprise you.”

“What if I don’t like surprises?” he challenges, trying to keep the conversation flowing and, more importantly, keep Felicity right where she’s still caressing his face.

“You’ll like this one, I promise.”

“Fe-li-ci-ty…”

“Just trust me, Oliver,” she whispers.

He does, of course. But he can’t help but feel curious as well. What is she up to? What’s this surprise she’s talking about?

“Okay,” he agrees, heart thumping in his chest. “Will you give me any hints?”

“Mhhh,” she ponders, sticking her bottom lip out adorably. “Maybe don’t eat too much beforehand.”

“Are you going to cook?”

She drops her hands from his face to his shoulders and pushes at him, letting herself drift away with a hearty laugh. “Just wait and see.”

He quickly pushes off the wall and chases after her, catching up with her just before she reaches the steps leading out of the pool, his hands circling around her waist from behind and pulling her against his front with a low growl. “You're really testing the limits of my patience, Felicity.”

She whirls around in his arms, opening her mouth for what will surely be a snarky retort when her eyes drop to his chest and her breath stutters, sending a wave of smug pride through him. He may not be in peak physical shape right now like he usually has to be for his movies, but it’s still extremely gratifying to see her have such an obvious reaction to his body and their proximity.

“One more clue,” he prompts, trying to keep his pleased smirk at a minimum.

“I need it to be dark, so I’m thinking we’ll meet at 8.30 or 9-ish.”

He lets out a faux gasp, feigning hurt. “But if it’s dark you can’t enjoy all of this,” he says, dramatically gesturing at his face with one hand (while the other remains firmly on her hip, of course), “in all its glory.”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” she groans and rolls her eyes.

“Is it working?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully at her.

She sighs and pats his chest lightly, a smile playing on her lips. “I think by now you know that I think you’re quite handsome.”

Yup, her numerous babbles over the last few months have definitely revealed as much, but it still feels _really_ good to have her say it again. Especially in the position they’re in right now.

“Yeah?” he smiles down at her.

“Yes, Oliver,” she indulges him once again, and he may or may not be puffing his chest. “Very handsome.” Definitely puffing his chest.

“Any more hints?”

“Nope,” she smirks right back, apparently having found her footing again. Damn it, he thought that maybe he could make the best of her frazzled state and get some more information out of her. “I’ll let you know the exact time when I return Arcus.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Oliver, stop fishing. I’m not telling you anything else.”

_Okay, think, Oliver. What do you know so far? There’ll be food and you’ll meet her around sunset._

That has the potential to be a meeting on the more… romantic side. Some may even be tempted to call it a _date_. Damn, he needs more information!

“Wine, maybe?” he prompts, ignoring her exasperated sigh. “Candles to light up the darkness? I’m told I’m even more handsome in candle light.”

“Oliver…”

“Some music?” he plows right through her protest with a charming smile. “Massage oil, perhaps?” he asks, because he’s a sucker for self-torture, apparently. As if last night’s little preview wasn’t enough to show him that he’s in no way able to actually get through massaging her bare skin. Not that he minded the impromptu turn of events when his brain had short-circuited and he’d suddenly flipped her on the couch, ready to devour her. In his defense, she’d been right there with him on the precipice before… _fuck_ , he’s such an idiot!

Not even 24 hours ago her psycho ex came tumbling back into her life, holding them hostage, threatening to…

 _God, you're such an insensitive jerk_ , he admonishes himself. _She asked for time to process everything and here you go trampling over all rules of personal space not even a day later._

He takes a half step back, the waist-high water lapping against his skin, his hands dropping from her skin and hovering uselessly in the air, caught between the urge to hold her close and give her space.

“I’m okay, Oliver,” she assures him calmly, her tiny hand coming to rest right above his heart, and he realizes that his sudden distress must’ve shown on his face.

“ _How_? He was…” He can’t even bring himself to say it out loud.

“Because it’s over,” she says with a sigh, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around his waist until she’s flush against him once more. “For the first time in six years I know with absolute certainty that he’ll never come back into my life. He’ll never be able to hurt me or anyone else again. _That’s_ why I’m okay. Because it’s finally over.”

He looks at her forlornly, searching her eyes for any indication that she’s repressing her true feelings in favor of moving their… _thing_ forward, in fear that he's not willing to wait.

“I just… I don’t want you to feel rushed,” he explains hesitantly. “I know I said that you were testing my patience just now, but I’m not going anywhere and I don’t mind waiting for you to put some distance between what happened last night.” She looks like she’s about to protest, but he just needs to get this out before he loses his courage. “I don’t want to read too much into everything, but it kinda sounded like you might be planning a date for tonight. Like a _date_ date. And a really selfish part of me wants to make sure that you won’t regret that decision and think it was a mistake. Especially if it’s made as an emotional response to last night.”

Her mouth clamps shut as she stares up at him with wide eyes, brows furrowing in contemplation.

Oh god, he totally just blew his chances, didn’t he?

In a move that he really doesn’t expect, Felicity lets out a heavy breath and leans her chin against his chest, angling her head so she can still look at him. “Do you even realize what you’re doing to me right now?” she asks seriously, even though the corners of her lips are ticking up slightly.

Oh, crap.

“Uhh… I…” Crap. Crap. Crap. _What_ did he do?

“You're totally ruining me for any other men.” Her voice is accusatory, but it doesn’t pack any punch, not when she’s smiling warmly at him like she is right now and when her fingers are pinching his sides teasingly.

Huh?

“I… what?”

She lifts her chin from his chest and quickly replaces it with her index finger, poking the spot over his heart. “Because of how ridiculously sweet and thoughtful you are, I have completely unrealistic expectations of men. Hope you’re proud of yourself, mister.”

He is!

A slow, satisfied and relieved smirk lifts up his lips. “So, is that a good thing?”

“For you, maybe,” she grumbles, but keeps her smile firmly in place. “It means that your competition is dwindling down to a scarily low number.”

“I’m failing to see a problem with that,” he smirks back and wraps his arms around her waist. “Even though I’m shocked to hear that there’s competition at all.”

“Well, I do recall telling you all about my crush on Ray Palmer.”

He knows she’s joking, but fuck, just the thought of her being with anyone else –especially a buffoon like Ray Palmer- has a gut-wrenching effect on him.

Her delighted laugh rips him out of a dark train of thoughts on how to kill Ray in the most painful manner. “Oh, stop pouting, Oliver,” she chides, patting his cheek. “You're the one I asked on a date, aren’t you?”

“Technically, you just asked me to spend time with you,” he points out with a wink.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Oliver, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?”

“Mhhh,” he hums, pretending to think about his answer, “I don’t know. Depends on what we’ll be doing.”

“Nice try, but that’s still a surprise,” she scoffs. “So, surprise date with me. Take it or leave it?”

Her voice is still light and jokey, but the slightest tremble in her lips gives away her nervousness as she waits for his answer now that they’ve put a definitive label on what they’re doing. Like there’s actually a chance he’d say no to a date with her.

He tucks a wet strand of hair behind her ear, making sure his fingertips graze over her skin in a light, teasing touch. “That’s not an actual choice, Felicity,” he tells her with a soft smile. “Take it, of course. I can’t wait to see what you have planned.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous. His first Oscars maybe? No, that was _way_ less nerve-wracking than this.

He shouldn’t even be this nervous. He's been on countless dates and never once did his nerves flare up like they do right now. Maybe it’s because, usually, he’s the one to plan the dates — even though it’s not like he ever put too much thought into any of them. But tonight is different.

Felicity asked _him_ out. And Felicity planned the whole thing without giving him a whole lot of information as to what they’ll be doing.

Or maybe it’s because a date has never been this important to him. He needs tonight to go well, if he wants to continue to have a shot at being with Felicity. And he really, _really_ wants to continue to have a shot at being with Felicity, because she’s amazing and smart and so goddamn beautiful and funny, and he’d like nothing more than to start a relationship with her.

He just prays to god that she's sure about this and that she won’t regret taking this step with him so soon after facing her past in such a horrible way. But he just has to trust her words and hope that she knows what she’s doing. If their shared time together has shown him anything, it’s that she’s one tough cookie and that he should never underestimate her.

Considering the short amount of time she had to prepare the date, she already surprised him when she wordlessly –albeit with a huge smile— returned Arcus to him about an hour ago, a hard plastic container shaped like a small wine bottle firmly between his teeth. She'd left before Arcus had reached his master to deliver the bottle that, upon closer inspection, held a rolled piece of paper.

 _Join me for a star-studded night on the rooftop at 9 pm._  
Love,  
Felicity

Okay. Deep breath.

First off, _love_? God, is it possible that they’re really on the same page or is it just her usual way of ending a letter?

And ‘star-studded’? They're in the middle of a rather big city, so there probably won’t be any literal stargazing going on because it won’t be dark enough. Maybe they’ll watch a movie with a lot of celebrities in it? But how will they do that on the rooftop? He's only been there a few times since he moved in, but as far as he knows there’s no tech equipment to watch a movie.

He pushes the heavy door to the rooftop open and is greeted by a gust of fresh air and the soft orange colors of the setting sun. Showtime.

And wow, he really isn’t ready for the beautiful setting that greets him. From his previous visits to the roof he already knew that it’s a really nice place with a cozy lounge area to sunbathe or just chill out, even a patch of real grass and a ton of potted plants to create the illusion of a garden. But what’s usually not there is the dozens of candles in mason jars littering the floor and every nook and crevice. The soft candle light, combined with the orange glow from the setting sun create an incredible and comfortable ambiance in the open space.

“You're here,” Felicity greets him with a beaming smile, quickly walking over from a table that usually isn’t part of the décor.

“Hey,” he says a little breathlessly, silently freaking out over not thinking about how he should greet her. Hug her? Kiss her cheek? Awkward hand wave?

Felicity chuckles lightly. “I see you’re about as nervous as I am.”

“You're nervous?” he questions disbelievingly, taking in her calm exterior. “Maybe I should give you my Oscars, because you really don’t seem to be freaking out as much as I am right now.”

“Well,” she mumbles with a slight blush on her cheeks, “I might’ve already had a glass of wine to calm my nerves a little.”

“Alcohol sounds fantastic right about now,” he laughs nervously and stretches out his hand for her to take. “Lead the way?”

“Of course,” she smiles back at him and tugs him along to the table she set up beautifully.

“Some champagne to start with?” she offers and he gladly takes the flute from her hand.

“What shall we toast to?”

“A new beginning?” she suggests, her tone more serious.

“To a new beginning,” he agrees and clinks his glass against hers before taking a sip of the golden liquid.

“I hope you’re hungry. I think Mario might’ve gone a little overboard with the food,” she says after thanking him for pulling out the chair for her.

“You went to Mario?” he asks, honestly surprised that she could get any food from him on such a short notice. “How did you convince him to cook for you? It took me a solid two years and countless dinners at his restaurant to suck up to him enough that he’d let me get take-out from him.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Well, Francesco, his soon to be son-in-law, had some trouble with his company’s firewall and I overheard his pretty desperate discussion when I was at the restaurant with Cait and Iris one night and I offered my help which led to Luisa being extremely grateful and telling her dad to make sure to always take care of me whenever I come around to the restaurant.”

Of course she wrapped the entire family around her little finger within seconds. God, this woman is so amazing.

“And what did he whip up for us tonight?”

“Various types of Bruschetta as a starter, Spaghetti Bolognese for the main course, and homemade ice-cream for dessert. And, believe it or not, I actually talked him out of adding three more dishes,” she laughs. “Shall we get started?” she asks, motioning to the serving covers that are keeping their food warm on their plate.

“We shall.”

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

Dinner passes in a blur of amazing food, fantastic wine and even better conversation as the sun sets slowly behind them, dipping their surroundings into darkness, only illuminated by the numerous candles.

Despite the initial hesitance and nervousness, they're able to shake off their insecurities after only a couple of minutes and soon find their typical, quick-witted back and forth. At some point, Felicity has him almost choking on his food from laughing when she tells the story of how she once overslept and barely made it into an important exam… barefoot and wearing pajamas that had the faces of all members of New Kids On The Block printed on them.

Towards the end of their main course, she starts glancing at his watch and the more insecure part of him would’ve thought that she was gauging if an acceptable amount of time had passed that would allow her to ditch him, but just looking at her easy, happy smile and her relaxed demeanor is enough to assure him that she’s happy to be here. But she definitely has something else up her sleeve.

They finish their meals and linger a little bit, sipping on their wine, before Felicity asks, “Ready for part two?”

“Show me what you got,” he replies and follows her over to the grass where a picnic blanket is spread out, but he still has no idea what she’s got planned. And is that a laptop? Maybe that’s how they’ll watch a movie?

“Make yourself comfortable,” Felicity tells him and motions to the blanket, toes off her heels and sits down cross-legged on one side. “I just need a few minutes to set this up,” she says and opens the laptop in her lap.

He does as she says, watching her type furiously with a suspiciously raised eyebrow. “Are you finally going to tell me what you have planned?”

“You’ll see in a little bit,” she assures him. “Just lie down and look at the stars.

He glances up at the dark night sky. So she really was talking about star-gazing in her note? “Uh, there’s not really that much to see,” he points out his earlier suspicion that all the light from the city would create too much of a glow to actually see a lot of stars. There’s a few scattered here and there that he can make out with some imagination and he can see the blinking lights from airplanes passing over them, but that’s about it.

“Just keep looking,” she huffs out, and he decides that he might as well do as she says, and stretches out next to her, kicking off his shoes.

A few minutes pass in silence and then Felicity pumps her fist in the air in triumph and before he can ask what she’s cheering about they’re suddenly dipped into almost complete darkness that is barely illuminated by the remaining candles around them.

What the hell?

A blackout?

Felicity is seemingly unfazed by the turn of events and puts the laptop away to lie down next to him, her shoulder pressing against his.

“I thought I told you to look at the stars, Oliver,” she chastises him softly, when she catches him staring at her. “We only have about ten minutes.”

We only have about ten minutes? What?

Wait…

No.

“ _You_ did this?” he questions, his mouth hanging open in complete shock.

“Yup,” she confirms. “Now look up or all this work will have been for nothing.”

He tears his eyes away from her and stares at the night sky that has suddenly become much more visible, thousands more stars twinkling in the distance.

Felicity did this. She somehow hacked into the power grid and shut it off, so they could look at the stars. That’s just ridiculous. And oddly romantic.

“You hacked the power company?” he can’t help but ask, still stunned by what just happened.

“Shh,” she shushes him and nudges him with her elbow in protest of the new interruption. “Can we just enjoy the moment and talk later? We only have, like, seven more minutes.”

Yes, they definitely can. So instead of letting his curiosity get the best of him, he slings his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side, wordlessly saying that there’s no one else he’d rather enjoy this magical moment with.

And it truly is magical.

Being in a big city for so long with all the distractions and lights all the time makes it easy to forget that some of the universe’s biggest mysteries are right in front of their eyes every night. With just a few strokes on the keyboard, Felicity eliminated all distractions and stripped the world down to the simplicity of just being. At least for a few minutes.

God, this woman is so amazing.

All too soon, she sighs next to him and disentangles herself from his light embrace, sitting up and grabbing her laptop. Not even a minute later, the tell-tale glow of thousands of lights illuminate the previous darkness, putting an end to the impromptu star-gazing.

“Sorry, it was only so short,” she apologizes and stashes the laptop next to her after a few finishing taps, “but I didn’t want to leave Starling in the dark for too long. Never know what could happen, right?”

See, she’s an incredible person. He hadn’t even thought about how this would affect anyone else and here she is worrying about everybody else’s well-being amidst their romantic moment.

“I can’t believe you did this,” he marvels, shaking his head in stunned disbelief. “I think it's pretty safe to say that no one has ever plunged a whole city into darkness for a date with me.”

An adorable blush creeps up her cheeks. “Well, technically it was only for ten minutes of our date and I didn't plunge the _whole_ city into darkness. I made sure that all hospitals, fire departments, police stations and stuff all still had power.”

“You're crazy,” he tells her with a wide smile. “But _thank you_. Even without this our date would've been the best date ever.”

She lets out a little huff looking at her hands in her lap, doubt settling over her. “I don't know about that.”

“But I do. Best date ever, I promise,” he tells her softly and grabs her hands, pulling them into his lap, squeezing reassuringly. “Way to set the bar really low for me, by the way,” he grumbles playfully, tugging at her fingers. “How will I ever top this on our next date?”

“Ehh, just cook something for me and I’ll be happy,” Felicity shrugs, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, her tentative smile not quite reaching her eyes. Something isn't right. “Well, actually, maybe we should have a talk before we plan anything else.”

What?

What is going on? She doesn’t want to go out with him again? Did she not have as amazing a time with him as he’s had with her tonight? Is this all he gets? One date? Where is this sudden doubt coming from?

A hand on his chest rips him out of his escalating train of terrifying thoughts and he realizes that his inward terror must’ve shown on his face. “I’m not good at this dating thing,” Felicity sighs. “Actually, I just don’t have a whole lot of experience with dating because I’ve always been too busy with work, and everything that happened with Cooper really turned me off the whole relationship thing. So now… I just wanna _talk_. Before we get ahead of ourselves.”

“Do you feel like we’re getting ahead of ourselves by talking about our second date?” he questions, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really understand where this is coming from. One second, we’re having a good time, and the next, you’re putting the brakes on us. Did I read this all wrong? Did you not enjoy spending time with me tonight?”

“Of course, I enjoyed tonight,” she sighs, drawing her hands back into her lap. “Moving forward, I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page.”

“And what page is that?”

Don’t say friendship. Don’t say friendship!

She blows out a long breath, tilting her head to the side. “I’m not looking for a fling.”

“Oh-kay…” He furrows his brows. “Did I somehow give you the impression that that’s what _I’m_ looking for?”

“No.” She doesn’t look terribly convinced of her own answer. “I just wanted to put all my cards on the table and tell you that if we decide to move forward with this _thing_ between us —however that would work— I’m looking for something steady and not just to fill your time until you go back to your normal life.”

Ah, and there’s the real issue.

She's scared.

On the one hand, he gets it. Much to his chagrin now, he has made a name for himself as a womanizer over the past ten years. His countless conquests have been dragged through the tabloids over the years, making it clear to the world that Ollie Queen is Hollywood’s number one playboy. Of course, a reputation like that would leave its mark on how people —despite their best intentions to disregard his previous indiscretions— see him now, especially when talking about the possibility of a serious, romantic relationship.

But on the other hand, Felicity knows him better than that. She, of all people, should know that he's put all of that behind him after what happened with Rose. He's poured his heart and soul out to her and trusted her with the biggest secret of his life, telling her about how the night that changed everything and here she is still holding his past against him.

Talk about a punch to the gut.

“So it comes down to you not trusting me to have changed?” Yes, fine, he sounds really bitter right now.

“No,” she replies forcefully, matching his rising level of frustration, “this comes down to me being uncertain how we’d go about things when you’re leaving next year.”

And just like that, she brings back all of his own fears and reservations, the initial reason why he hadn't let himself seriously entertain the idea of starting a relationship with her. Well, ironically enough, it’d been her mother who’d brought all those questions and uncertainties about a relationship between them to light. He'd conveniently forgotten about them since then, letting hope overshadow his doubts.

“And so because I’m leaving in six or seven months you don’t even want to try and see where this leads us?”

She huffs out a breath. “I've never been good at just going with the flow when I don't know where it might lead me,” she explains, sounding apologetic. “I want to be a person that just jumps. That is not scared of the consequences and that can just forget about everything else and follow her heart. But I can’t. Not after what happened with Cooper.”

Okay, he gets that. Her one and only relationship experience was with a guy that hurt her physically and mentally, and she still carries those scars with her, especially after last night’s encounter.

But still, if you don't take chances sometimes how are you supposed to find happiness after a tragedy like that?

“There are never any guarantees, not for anything in life, Felicity. We both know that. Even if I were to stay here for longer and we’d give a relationship a shot, we could break up after two weeks. But don’t you think that we owe it to ourselves to at least _try_?”

“But how would a long-distance relationship like that work?”

“I don’t know," he says honestly, wishing he could give her a more reassuring answer. "But I do know that we have at least half a year to build the basis for this relationship and grow strong together.”

That seems to really get through to her and her walls are starting to crumble. Her shoulders slump down, releasing some of that tension from her body.

 _You're on the right track,_ he tells himself.

“I’m scared, too, Felicity." He lets his hands gravitate to hers once more, gently pulling her up to a standing position, cupping her face. "I went into this year, thinking I’d focus on myself. Find out who I am away from the spotlight, spend time with Thea and Arcus, and finally relax for the first time since I started this journey over ten years ago. And then I got stuck in an elevator with you and everything changed.”

“Oliver…”

“No, you've changed me, Felicity. Just by being in my life you've opened me up in a way that I've not allowed myself to do since I was a kid. You know me better than anyone, and yet, you haven't run for the hills.”

He lets his words sink in, watching as Felicity eyebrows scrunch together in contemplation. He prays to god that he's getting through to her.

“Can I ask where all this came from?” he asks into the silence, thinking that maybe if he can get to the root of her fears he can find the right words to reassure her. “We were having a good time and suddenly you come out with this out of seemingly nowhere.”

“I think it just hit me. Kind of like reality finally caught up with me, you know? I suddenly realized that I'm on a date with _Oliver Queen_ and we're already talking about the next date even though this one isn't even over. And then my overactive brain went into overdrive and came up with images of paparazzi and premieres and being apart all the time and I panicked. It was all just too much all of the sudden and I needed things to slow down so my brain could really catch up with everything and make sure that I'm not getting in over my head.” She ducks her head. “I'm sorry for being so difficult and for ruining the date. Maybe _you_ should be the one running for the hills.”

With the tip of his index finger, he raises her chin. “I always want to hear what's going on in that beautiful, crazy mind of yours, Felicity,” he smiles down at her, pleased with himself when the last of her worry lines vanish from her face. “What can I do to help you get past your doubts?”

“Honestly? I don't think you can do anything, or rather, nothing more than you've already done,” she sighs, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his back. “You're wonderful in a million different ways and I'm a complete fool for thinking twice about being with you.”

“No, you’re human. And someone who’s had terrible experiences with other humans,” he concedes with a sad smile, stroking his thumb along her jawline. “Adding that to the prospect of sharing my crazy lifestyle would make most sane people reconsider.”

“It's not… It just has a way of sneaking up on you,” she explains, gripping the back of his shirt tighter. “Sometimes the more negative consequences don’t seem so bad in comparison to the perks of being with you and then other times the magnitude of what being with you would mean comes crashing down like a tidal wave and it feels like I’m drowning.”

 _Sometimes_ … does that mean…?

“So you’ve thought about this before?” He's careful to keep his tone neutral, trying not to spook her now that he’s got her talking openly.

She blushes furiously, pressing her lips together. “I mean… uhh… maybe?” she stutters. “I think we both know that something more has been brewing between us for a while now and a girl can dream, right?”

He could tease her in a million different ways about her answer, but she’s looking at him with such adorable eyes that he decides to go for the cheesy answer. “A boy can dream, too.”

Her eyes widen in shock for a second before she huffs out a delighted laugh. “I don’t know if that was terrible or cute.”

“How about terribly cute?”

“You're incorrigible.”

_No, I’m in love._

One step at a time. If he does this right he’ll have more chances to drop the L-bomb on her. For now, he needs to get back on track.

“Either way, this brings us back to the question of what happens next,” he reminds her softly, knowing that this’ll be a make or break moment. “If you really think you're not ready and this is all going too fast for you, or that you don't want to try, that's okay. Just tell me and I'll back off,” he assures her, tilting his head thoughtfully. “But if you’re willing to _try_ , I promise I’ll meet you halfway. So, for once in your life, I just need you to jump and trust that I’ll be right there by your side,” he tells her with a shrug, breathlessly waiting for her answer.

She looks at him for long, torturous seconds, contemplating her answer before she finally grabs his hands. “Then let’s jump.”

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**


	18. Chapter 18

**⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

She's crazy.

No, seriously, she’s absolutely, fucking crazy.

How else would you explain her behavior?

Here she is on a date with Oliver Queen. Scratch that, she’s on a _perfect_ date with Oliver Queen and everything is going great, and what does she do? Instead of just following her heart, her brain kicks in and almost ruins everything.

Goddamnit, brain, can’t you just take a chill pill for once in your life?

Oliver had been talking about their second date and she just had to go and question their entire relationship. All five seconds of it.

Stupid brain, coming up with all kinds of scenarios for how a romantic relationship between them could fail.

In her defense, she does kind of have a point, though. She didn’t even realize how true the words were until they left her mouth: she really doesn’t have a lot of experience with dating and the only real experience she does have is with Cooper. So not exactly the shining example of what a relationship should look like.

And on the other side is Oliver who’s dated countless beautiful supermodels and actresses, and who looks like a freaking Adonis that will melt any woman’s panties off with a wink. How the hell is that supposed to work out?

She caught herself just in time, or maybe Oliver had caught her with his reassurances.

She said she didn’t want to be a fling, a way to pass his time here in Starling, and maybe the notion of only being willing to commit to a long-term relationship is naïve on her part, but she just doesn’t know any better, does she? It's not like anything you see on TV or read in books about these types of relationships is actually realistic, or is it?

“You're thinking really loudly,” the man of her dreams and current thoughts mumbles softly into her ear, “And judging by that little crease on your forehead, I’d say that you still have doubts.”

“Sorry,” she whispers sheepishly. “I can’t seem to turn it off.”

He runs his thumb over her cheek and she has to summon all her willpower not to melt under his touch. “I wish I could take away all your doubts.”

“Tell me about our second date.”

“Okay,” he says after a few seconds of scrutinizing her sudden one-eighty. “Let’s see. Do you want to do something out in public or keep it private?”

“I don’t think I wanna add the pressure of other people and paparazzi, so how about we keep this a little more private?”

“Hmm… in that case, how’s your stamina?”

“Uhhhh…” Where is he going with this? What kind of a date is he thinking of that she'll need stamina for? Physical… activities? “Pretty good, I guess? I’ve been slacking off a bit with my workouts, but I’m in decent shape. Why do you ask?”

He smiles down at her, raising his eyebrow just a tiny bit as if he knows where her dirty mind is going, but wisely chooses not to tease her about it. “Well, I own a cabin in the Archerton National Forest. We could drive out there for a hike next week.”

Oh.

A cabin… don’t those usually have beds?

She swallows down most of her nervousness before answering, “So we would stay at your cabin?”

“We can stay overnight if you want to, but since it’s just a two hour drive I was thinking we’d just head out there on a daytrip and use the cabin as a starting point and to park the car. We can pack a nice lunch and have a picnic at one of the small lakes. If we head out there during the week it should be mostly empty. No prying eyes, no paparazzi.”

“That sounds like a perfect getaway,” she sighs and reconsiders playfully, “or the perfect spot to murder someone.”

He chuckles, “I can assure you that I have no plans whatsoever to kill you.”

“Pretty sure that’s what a killer would say.”

“Remind me, why are we talking about my nonexistent murderous potential?”

She huffs, stabbing at his really hard chest with her index finger. “Because you, mister, are too perfect. It's suspicious.”

“We both know I’m not perfect,” he argues, losing some of his playfulness and a cloud settles over his eyes for a split second before they light up again with fondness. “But I’m trying to be for you.”

“See,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up helplessly, “You can’t just go and say stuff like that.” _And not expect my ovaries to explode._ ”Normal guys don’t do that.”

“Too much?” he grins, looking not even a little bit sorry.

“Well, if your goal is to give me a cavity from all of your sweetness, you’re definitely succeeding.”

“I think the copious amounts of ice cream you consume on a daily basis are to blame for that one, actually.”

She gasps loudly, swatting at his chest. “I reject the insinuation of that statement,” she huffs, taking a step back.

“Oh, really?” he challenges, letting her leave his embrace without a fight. “How many pints do you eat per week?”

“One.” A pointed, disbelieving look hits her. “Fine, two.” Sometimes three. She has a stressful job, okay?!

“Uh-huh.”

“Smart ass,” Felicity grumbles, knowing that she lost the argument. “Maybe I should end this date with my two good buddies Ben and Jerry.”

“I’m sure Mario would be heartbroken if he knew you’re cheating on his homemade gelato with store-bought stuff,” he argues, sticking his bottom lip out in an adorable little pout that she has no chance whatsoever to not succumb to. “Plus, I’d be a little heartbroken if our date got cut short.”

“Only a little bit?” she asks with an arched eyebrow, wondering if she’s pushing her luck with the teasing.

“Actually, a big bit,” he corrects his statement, keeping his pout in place for good measure. “I was really looking forward to having dessert with you after this amazing date, but if your love with Ben and Jerry is too strong I won’t try to get in between what is meant to be.”

 What a drama queen. Pun intended. But god, is it fun to banter like this.

“Well, I mean, if you help me clean up this place real quick, I _could_ be convinced to let you join me for dessert. Just the two of us. No Ben and Jerry.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” he asks with his arms spread wide, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and something that makes his eyes a delicious shade darker than usual. “Let’s clean this place up. Chop, chop.”

“Someone’s eager,” she muses, following him to their table where he's already collecting their plates and silverware.

“What can I say? I love dessert.” There’s that mysterious glint in his eyes again that makes her think she needs to decide rather soon if she has any rules for kissing someone on the first date. “Especially when it's with you.” Yup, she has to decide very, very soon.

 

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 

“Hey, by the way, what did you need Arcus for earlier?” he asks around a mouthful of ice cream, wisely not commenting on the fact that he’d gotten a much smaller serving than her.

They're seated on her couch, each with a bowl of unequal amounts of Mario’s delicious treat, sitting close enough that their shoulders are touching the whole time.

“I wanted to say thank you.” She shrugs. “It's something I would’ve done anyway, but my therapist actually suggested it this morning as well.”

“You already talked to your therapist?”

“And had coffee with Iris and Cait. Had a really productive day, I guess.”

“I’d say,” he chuckles. “So how did you thank my dog?”

“We started off with a nice cuddle session before I took him to Mario’s to grab our food. And we might’ve stopped at a couple of stores on the way to pick up a new dog bed, some toys and a whole bunch of treats.”

“Now I’m jealous,” he deadpans, but smiles at her softly. “You're spoiling my dog rotten.”

“Because he’s the best and deserves it,” she points out, finishing off her bowl. Would it look weird if she went for round two?

“Can't argue with that,” Oliver agrees, putting his empty bowl on the table next to hers. “I’m sure he was more than happy to spend time with you. I barely got him to leave your apartment last night.”

Last night… when Cooper had forced his way back into her life once again. As if he hasn’t done enough damage already.

How has it only been 24 hours? It feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

Obviously, she hadn't told her therapist the whole story. Mainly, because she didn't know how to explain why Cooper ended up being incarcerated by a secret government agency that she herself only knows about because she'd been bored one day in class and gone on a hacking spree of epic proportions. Paul is obviously bound by a very strict NDA, but still, there are things that she just doesn't want to get into with him.

Despite the hidden truths, her talk with Paul had been exactly how it should’ve been and what she paid good money for: therapeutic. It had helped her to decide how to keep moving forward after essentially closing the chapter of her life that had the constant threat and fear of Cooper in it.

One part of moving forward included telling her closest friends about what had happened, so that the repetitious action of talking about the events of last night could help her brain process the finality of the situation and help her make peace with it.

She would’ve told them anyway, since they’d seen her through the most horrific time of her life with a kind and steady patience and they deserved to know that Cooper got what he deserved and that it was all finally over. Plus, she really needed to thank Cait for alarming Diggle.

Who knows what could’ve happened if her friend hadn’t tried to reach her last night. What better way to say ‘thank you for your unwavering support and probably saving my life’ than extra-large caramel lattes and blueberry scones at their favorite bakery?

And with her best friends she had felt a little more comfortable to talk about her future with Oliver. Paul is great and all, but she’s never liked to talk to him about her love life. Her two besties, on the other hand, were all for talking about where her relationship with Oliver is going.

Okay, so technically, all three of them had told her to not rush herself and take a week or two to find a new normal in her everyday life without the lingering fear of facing her past, before she moved her friendship with Oliver to a romantic relationship. Ooops.

In her defense, she’s pretty sure that neither of them would’ve been able to resist the temptation of asking him out either when faced with an almost naked Oliver with droplets of water running down his sculpted chest and rock hard abs. She certainly never stood a chance.

“Speaking of Arcus, I should probably get going,” Oliver sighs. “If you fed him as many treats as I suspect you did, I'll have to go for another quick walk with him and it's getting pretty late.”

“Oh. Okay.” She can't quite hide her disappointment at his sudden notion to leave.

“That doesn't mean that I _want_ to go.” Of course he picked up on her disappointment. He grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look a little… tired.”

Huh, that’s something you really _don’t_ wanna hear when you're on a date…

“Wow, Queen, did you leave all that charm of yours on the roof?” she deadpans.

“Still incredibly beautiful,” he clarifies, tugging on her fingers, “but I know that you had a hell of a night and I don’t want to push you tonight.”

Damn, his charming smile is back.

“You're not pushing me and I’m not tired,” she argues determinedly, which quickly turns into a fail of epic proportions when she can’t suppress a long yawn.

“You were saying?”

Smug bastard. But good god, does he look sexy with his knowing smile and arched eyebrow.

“Fine,” she grumbles, reluctantly following him as he gets up, making no move to let go of his hand anytime soon.

He swivels around when they reach her front door, keeping a foot of space between them that leaves her with a feeling of emptiness after being so close to him for the better part of the last hour.

“Tonight was amazing,” Oliver tells her, his voice a little more breathless than before. Is he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

Oh.

 _Oh_.

They're about to end their very good first date. But how? A hug? Maybe even a kiss? Yes! To both of them, but definitely the kiss!

She searches his eyes, trying to gauge the situation and see if they’re on the same page. And crap, he doesn’t look quite as convinced as she feels. No, he looks nervous and wary, like he doesn’t know what to do.

And yeah, okay, she gets why he’s cautious. Just the night before they were held captive by her crazy ex, and now here she is ready to kiss him senseless. In this very apartment they’re standing in right now, no less. Even _she_ doesn’t understand how she can be so okay with the whole ordeal. After all, the last time she was faced with Cooper before last night it sent her into a massive panic attack and the time before that made her go to therapy for years to deal with the fallout.

But this time is different. One day later and she’s fine and ready to move forward. To start a new chapter of her life.

And that new start includes kissing the man she's madly in love with.

“Are we still on for walking Arcus tomorrow morning?” he asks softly, taking a step closer. Maybe he’s reconsidered the whole kissing thing.

“Of course,” she assures him, shuffling closer until there’s no space between them left. “Wouldn’t wanna start my Sunday without my two favorite boys.”

“Perfect,” he breathes out, his voice hitching ever so slightly. “And you’ll check if you can take Wednesday or Thursday off?”

She snorts. “Of course I can take one of the days off. There’s gotta be some awesome perks to being your own boss.”

“It's a date then.”

“It definitely is.”

They get lost in each other’s eyes for a few moments, both waiting for a sign from the other, until she's had enough.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you just kiss me already?”

His eyes widen for a second before a huge smile spreads across his face. “Gladly,” he whispers just before his lips connect with hers.

The first thought that registers in her brain when it stops fritzing is that his lips are unbelievably soft. They're like soft little pillow mountains and she never wants to stop kissing them.

The kiss starts out tentative, just a press of lips, but within seconds it morphs into something so sure and familiar and almost instinctual that it’s hard to believe that this is their first kiss. It might as well be their hundred and first.

She's not even a tiny bit embarrassed when she moans loudly when his teeth gently nip at her bottom lip, making her lips part. A fact that he quickly takes advantage of by sliding his tongue against hers in such a dangerously sensual way that her knees threaten to buckle beneath her.

God damnit, he’s good at this.

In a move that comes straight from her wildest dreams, his hand —yes, just _one_ hand, because the other one is busy softly caressing her cheek— slides down over her waist and thigh until it can slip just under the hem of her dress and then he lifts her entire body up and presses her with his own against the wall that he’s apparently trapped her against unbeknownst to her mid-make-out-frazzled brain.

Belatedly, she realizes that while his hand is exploring the naked skin of her thigh, hers are just looped around his neck and that’s just totally unacceptable. Making use of her newfound right to touch him like this, she dips her hands under his shirt, letting her fingertips trace over the ridiculously sculpted muscles across his stomach and up to his pecs, reveling in the low growl that she can feel vibrating in his chest just as much as she can hear it.

Their blissful moment ends all too abruptly when Oliver rips his lips from hers, his forehead dropping to her shoulder while he pants heavily.

Reluctantly, she retracts one of her hands from his impressive chest and soothes it through the short hair on the back of his head. She would stand before a jury and swear that he purrs ever so quietly at her ministrations. At least she’s not the only one that’s really far gone right now.

“Please don’t ask me to stay,” he whispers into the skin of her neck as his lips trail up.

“Why not?” she asks breathlessly, confusion knitting her eyebrows together. Was the kiss not quite as earth shattering for him as it was for her?

“Because I would,” he sighs, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. “And I want to, but I also wanna do this right and we already went a lot farther than I intended to after our first date.”

Great, he’s playing the gentleman card. How can she possibly argue with that?

“Fine,” she grumbles, kissing him just because she can. “But you’re not making me wait until date number seven or something stupid like that to get up close and personal with all this goodness,” she warns him teasingly, letting her fingernails trail down his chest and abs until they hit the hem of his pants where she taps his belt buckle in a silent promise.

He groans and chases after her lips once more. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“But what a fun way to go, right?” she quips with raised eyebrows.

“The best.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

 

“I swear this is not what the forecast said,” Oliver exclaims somewhat helplessly. “I’m never trusting that weather guy again. He said it’d be a sunny day out here in the high sixties.”

“Really?” she asks, raising a challenging eyebrow, even though she knows full well that he’s telling the truth. She'd checked and re-checked the forecasts all week to determine how many layers of clothes to bring, and every last one of them had promised a beautiful day in the Archterton Mountains. So, really, there’s no reason for Oliver to take on any of the blame that in reality belongs to the incompetent forecasters. “You didn’t plan for this torrential downpour to happen and for us to get stuck here?”

Picking up on her teasing tone, he retorts, “Damn it, now you’ve seen through my masterplan of luring you out here under false pretense and with a false sense of security to have my wicked way with you.”

She grins mischievously and asks, “Oh, is that offer still on the table?”

He tightens his hold around her and groans, “I’m not sure if that’s second date material.”

“Says the guy who kissed me at the end of our first date.”

“Well, yeah,” he chokes out, “but… I mean… technically, you told me to kiss you.”

“And I’m glad I did,” she smiles, leaning up to kiss him.

“Mhh, me, too,” he hums against her lips. “But speaking of technically:  _technically_ this is, like, our tenth date if you count all the dinners and lunches and coffee breaks we’ve enjoyed together since our first date on Saturday.”

“Hmm, true. But I also remember telling you that I didn’t need to reach a certain number of dates before I wanted to get up close and personal with your yumminess.”

“Ah, I see. And so now you want me to have my wicked way with you?” he asks breathlessly between small pecks, punctuating his questions by stroking his fingers along her thigh in a torturously slow pattern.

“Uh-huh. Maybe you could start by giving me more than a preview of that elusive massage you’ve been promising me for months.” Because apparently them sitting wrapped up together in thick blankets in front of a roaring fireplace with candles everywhere around them because the power went out again isn’t cliché enough already. “I wanna know what all the fuss is about.”

“If you’re sure you’re up for it?” he asks hesitantly, looking like he understands that she’s not just talking about a simple massage, but about what their last massage had almost led to before Cooper had interrupted. “I would never want you to feel pressured or anything just because we’re stuck in this oddly romantic situation.”

She frames his face with her hands, thumbs running over his cheeks. “I’m sure about this, Oliver,” she assures him, pressing a soft kiss to lips she's gotten quite well acquainted with over the past few days. “I don’t feel pressured to take this step and you’re definitely not pushing me. I _want_ to be with you. In every way.”

He swallows hard, regarding her closely for a few intense moments, gauging the sincerity of her response before he finally nods, his eyes instantly a shade darker than before. “I’ll go grab some body lotion. Why don’t you… uh… take off your jacket and shirt and lie down on your stomach?”

Her heart melts a little more when she sees the blush spread across his cheeks.

She knows with absolute certainty that she’s a goner for this guy, and that’s a damn scary thing to realize, but seeing him so flustered at the prospect of her taking her clothes off tells her that he's right there with her.

Her eyes fall to the black, furry monster that’s silently curled up in a wet pile a few feet away. “Oh, Oliver?” He stops in his tracks and turns around. “Can you take Arcus with you and put him in the kitchen or something?”

“You want me to lock Arcus in another room?” he questions and raises an amused eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Why? It's not like he can tell anyone what he saw.”

“Well, no,” she argues, “but it makes me feel weird to have him so close to us when… you’re giving me a massage.” And hopefully some orgasms. “And he smells like wet dog,” she adds lamely.

“Because he _is_ a wet dog,” he points out.

“Oliver,” she sighs exasperatedly. “Please?” She adds a pout for good measure and it does the trick.

“Fine,” Oliver gives in. “Come on, Arcus, you can sleep in the bedroom.” His dog gets up from his spot and follows his master out of the room with a wagging tail, excited to see what awaits him in the other room. And maybe she feels a little bit bad about sending him away, but not really, when she thinks about what is about to happen.

When the coast is clear she quickly takes off her borrowed jacket, shirt and bra, lying face down on the warm blanket, head tilted to where Oliver disappeared to.

His steps falter when he comes back into the main room, eyes instantly glued to her exposed body.

“Oh… you… uhh…” he stutters, stepping closer. “You took your bra off?”

Can he please stop being so fucking cute? She always thought she had a thing for confident guys, but seeing Oliver this adorably nervous and shy all of the sudden is _doing_ things to her. Who knew ladies’ man Oliver Queen could be thrown off by the sight of a naked back.

“For the record, it's because it’s _your_ naked back,” he clarifies, getting down on his knees next to her.

She groans, turning her head into the blanket. “I said that out loud? I thought I finally had my brain-to-mouth filter under control.”

He just chuckles, squirting some lotion on his hands and rubbing them together. “This’ll be a little cold,” he warns her just before his hands touch her skin.

And yeah, she flinches a little and goosebumps spread over her body like a wildfire because the lotion _is_ cold, but even she can admit that it's probably more because _Oliver_ is touching her.

It's something she’s realized over these last few days. Whenever he touches her, be it just holding her hand or touching her arm, or more intimate things like stroking her cheek or letting his fingers roam over her body during their more heated make-out sessions, there’s this sensation that takes over her entire body. It's like a spark that is ignited wherever he touches her and then quickly moves to set her whole body aflame.

This time is no different. It starts on her shoulders where he's applying just the right amount of pressure to knead her flesh, his fingers slipping easily over the lubricated skin. The heat follows wherever his hands wander, up to her neck, down her spine, along the waistband of her pants. It's like he’s setting her body ablaze with practiced movements that seem to be especially designed to drive her absolutely mad with lust.

God, the things she wants those talented hands to do next.

It's that thought that finally makes her moan under his fingers. She'd tried to keep herself quiet because she’d been a little embarrassed at how she’d become putty the last time they'd done a version of this on Saturday, but enough is enough. He might as well hear the effect he's having on her.

She'd been sure that he’d be the one to crack first. After all, he's the one that snapped the last time and the one that had flipped her onto her back in the blink of an eye. This time it’s her who snaps.

“Stop,” she breathes out on another moan when he hits an especially sensitive spot on her lower back.

His hands still immediately, pressing cautiously against her skin. “Felicity?” he croaks out, sounding unsure of what to do.

Without saying anything else she rolls onto her back, taking a not so miniscule amount of pride in the way his jaw drops.

And wow, this feels so surreal.

Here she is lying topless in front of one of the biggest stars in the world who has dated countless stunning actresses and supermodels and he’s looking at her like _she’s_ the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She can’t even begin to decipher all the emotions simmering in his eyes, but there’s definitely awe and surprise and a whole lot of excitement.

In a swift move that surprises even herself a little bit she sits up in an elegantly fluid motion and frames his face with shaking hands, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

He's frozen against her onslaught for about two seconds before a switch is flipped and he springs into action, giving as good as he gets. Within seconds, she’s pressed back down onto the covered floor and he's somehow managed to slip underneath the blankets and between her legs, pressing right where she wants him the most.

“Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly against the skin of her neck, diving ride back in once the last word has left his lips.

Damn his gentleman-ness.

How the fuck is she supposed to concentrate on giving him a coherent answer when he’s making her see stars?

“I’m… _yes_ , right there, Oliver,” she moans when his fingers pinch one of her nipples just as his lips find an insanely sensitive spot on her neck. _Hello_ , fireworks. “So fucking sure.”

He suddenly stops everything he's doing and pulls back a little to look at her. The growl that may or may not roll from her lips has him chuckle lightly, but his eyes remain serious.

“I’m sure, Oliver,” she tries again, laying a flat hand right over his still covered chest.

A thought strikes her then. Maybe it's not really her he’s worried about. “How about you? Are _you_ sure?”

He grinds his hips against hers, the bulge in his pants rubbing right against her center through way too many layers of clothes. “I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my life, Felicity. I can’t even begin to describe how much I want you.”

“Okay, so we’re on the same page?” she questions one last time, letting one hand roam down his body to squeeze his butt.

“God, yes,” he groans and slams his eyes shut.

“Great, then you better lose the shirt.”

 

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

  

She wakes ever so slowly, god knows how many hours later, cocooned by the combined warmth of Oliver’s body heat, the blankets and the fire that is still flickering a few feet away. A soft orange ray of the setting sun is shining through the window, indicating that it’s been quite a few hours since they’d gotten back to Oliver’s cabin, soaked through to the bone from the unexpected rainstorm that had made them double back to their point of origin two hours into their hike. The last half hour of which had been a dangerous mixture of briskly walking and more often sliding down the muddy paths leading them back to shelter.

When they’d finally made it back, wet and muddy from a few slip-ups, they’d discovered that the power was out –probably due to a tree hitting a power line, Oliver had explained— and when lightning and thunder had crackled right above their heads they’d decided to wait out the worst of the storm in the safety of the cabin before trying to find a way home.

After they'd started a fire and changed into some spare clothes he kept in his bedroom they snuggled up in front of the fireplace. And then… well, then things had heated up between them.

Which led them to the post-coital bliss they’re still basking in now.

Oliver is softly nuzzling her neck, pressing lazy kisses here and there, his hands holding her in place against him. What a way to wake up.

She honestly can’t remember the last time she was this content. There’s no worries, no doubts, no thoughts about her company or his career. It's just them right here in this moment. The rest of the world can wait for a while.

When she turns her head towards him, he’s looking at her with alert, blue eyes, a soft, content smile tugging at his lips.

“Mhh,” she hums, stretching her tired limbs. “What are you thinking about?”

He just shakes his head, huffing out a breath. “I don’t wanna scare you off.”

She smiles tenderly at him, brushing her thumb across his scrunched up eyebrow.

She knows what’s going through his mind right now. It's in the way his eyes linger on her and in the way his fingers run over her skin in a bare whisper of a touch. It's in the way he looked at her when they made love and in the way he pulled her into his body afterwards.

He loves her.

She knows that that’s what’s on his mind now because she feels the same way. And if he’s anything like her, that feeling will be overwhelming and scary.

“Are you admitting that you're still trying to figure out the best way to dump my body while we’re up here?” she quips lightly, taking away some of the tension.

Her attempt at levity works and he chuckles in response. “When are you gonna let that crazy theory go? You're way too obsessed with this whole me being a murderer thing.”

She grins widely and traces her fingers along his chiseled jawline. “I told you, you’re too perfect.” She ignores his protesting headshake and whispers, “So tell me, what’s on your mind?”

“Honestly, I think I’m just starting to really process everything,” he shrugs. “It's like my brain is just now catching up with everything that has led us here. This past week has been kind of a whirlwind.”

Understatement of the year.

“I’m not sure my mind is quite there yet.” He shakes his head and she can practically see him rearrange his thoughts. “I’ve wanted this for so long, and now it’s here. It’s happened…” he trails off, licking his lips. “And it’s amazing and I’m so happy that it _did_ happen, but it also feels kind of surreal.”

He's one to talk. He didn’t just sleep with one of the hottest and most successful actors on the planet. Now _that’s_ surreal.

“It feels surreal, but at the same time it also feels… natural? It doesn’t feel like this was the first time, it feels like we’ve done this many times before. I’ve never been so… naturally and instantly in sync with anyone before, and that is amazing but also a little bit scary? In a good way,” he adds quickly. “But also new and foreign. And wow, I’m totally ruining this right now, aren’t I?”

Can he get any cuter?

“You're not ruining anything, Oliver,” she assures him and presses into him. “This whole communication thing goes both ways. When I had my doubts last week you told me that you always wanna hear about what’s going on in my head. The same goes for you. I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything. You never _have_ to tell me, but you need to know that you _can_.”

“I know that,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I do and I appreciate that more than I can ever say. I think, safe for a few hiccups,we’ve been pretty good with communicating in our friendship, it shouldn’t be too hard to keep doing that now that things have progressed with us, right?”

“I agree,” she nods. “That’s probably why our friendship grew so strong so quickly. Because we were always open and honest with each other. Now, more than ever, is the time to keep doing what we’ve been doing so well, and we should be just fine.”

“You're remarkable, you know,” he marvels, kissing her softly. “You’ve already been through so much in your life and here you are, so strong and positive. It's amazing.”

“I didn’t do it alone, though,” she reminds him, her mind flashing to countless nights spent talking with Cait and Iris, family dinners with the Diggles, coding sessions with Curtis, working out with Sara, walking Arcus through the park with Oliver. “I’ve always had people in my life who love me unconditionally that I knew I could fall back on in case I couldn’t handle things on my own.”

“Tommy used to be that person for me,” Oliver says in a hoarse whisper, eyes clouded with sadness. “After my parents kicked me out, he was my rock. The one person I could always rely on to cheer me up on a bad day or after an audition went poorly.”

“Have you tried reconnecting with him?”

“No,” he sighs. “After everything, I don’t really see how we can still be friends. We’ve drifted so far apart that I just don’t know how to get back on the same page, or even the same book, for that matter.”

“But you do miss him,” she points out gently, tightening her hold on his torso.

“Of course, I do. He was my best friend for more than twenty years. But that doesn’t change the fact that every time he opens his mouth now, I wanna punch him for the terrible things he says. And the crazy thing is that I don’t even know if his whole douchebaggery is just an act he puts on or if that’s really who he is.”

“Maybe you’ll have to find a way to get through a whole conversation with him without punching him to find out once and for all,” she suggests, feeling terrible that he’s losing his best friend.

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Remind me again why we’re talking about another guy when we’re naked and in each other’s arms?”

She slowly traces a fingertip across the skin of his chest. “Because I care about you, and it makes me sad to think that you’ve lost someone so important to you.”

“It's not necessarily a bad thing, though,” he points out and kinda loses her for a second. How is losing your oldest friend a good thing? “The way he is right now is a constant reminder of the person I used to be. And I don’t ever wanna go back to that.” He tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ve held onto him for too long and it’s just taken me until now to realize that I can’t fully become the new me until I completely let go of everything that was poisonous in the past. And Tommy is one of those things.”

As painful as his explanation sounds, it does make a certain amount of sense. She still disagrees with his idea of cutting all ties and not giving his friend another chance to redeem himself, but he seems to be happy with his decision and so she’ll support him. Maybe after some time has passed and Tommy takes the first step and proves that he can also change, there’ll still be a chance for the two of them.

“What about your parents?”

“Felicity,” he groans in frustration and closes his eyes. “God, I must really suck at this if you keep thinking about other people right now.”

Okay, yeah, she can admit that bringing up his parents wasn’t a good idea, but she figured she could address the other major question mark in his life while they’re on the topic of estranged people. Maybe another time.

“I can assure you that you definitely don’t suck at this,” she tells him, her mind briefly flashing back to the multiple earth-shattering orgasms he’s treated her to today. “That’s just how my crazy mind works.”

“Mhh,” he hums against the skin of her neck, evidently pleased with himself for getting her back on track. “I love your crazy mind, but can we please focus back on what’s important?”

“And what’s that?”

“Us.”

Good answer, but also a very obvious way to distract her from the fact that he still hasn’t really told her about whatever had the potential to scare her off.

“Very true,” she agrees, but moves her head away from his mouth. Something that turns out to be a herculean task. Damn his talented mouth. “But just for the record, this is me noticing you trying to distract me from what you said earlier. What did you mean when you said you didn’t want to scare me off?”

He pulls back, pressing his lips together. “Mhh, you realized that I was stalling, huh?”

“Yup,” she smiles at him proudly, pecking his lips once more.

“It's just… like I said, it’s a bit scary to have this… intense connection with you. It's really, really exciting, but also something I’ve never had in my life before and I don’t wanna screw this up.”

She nods along as he explains, glad that he’s opening up to her. “I think we’re on the same page there.”

“Yeah, but from what it sounds like, you think I have this all figured out because you think I have more experience than you, but, to be honest, I’m also out of my depth here.”

Uhh… says the guy who’s been with a crap load of women to the girl with, like, two boyfriends.

Her disbelief must show on her face because he sighs and continues, “Yes, I’ve dated a lot more than you have, but none of those relationships –and I’m using the term very loosely here— were ever serious. Not like this.” He brings up one of her hands between them and gently kisses the back. “I was never in it, you know. Actually, more than a fair share of public dates or when I brought someone to a premiere or something like that, it was just for PR reasons. A lot of it was basically just business.

“So, meeting someone who’s not trying to be with me for my fame or money has been… weird and not something I’ve had to deal with before. And knowing what kind of feelings I have for you means that I have a lot to work through and process.” He runs a hand through his already ruffled hair. “Bottom line, I don’t really know what I’m doing. And as much as you keep telling me how perfect I am, I’m really worried that I’ll do something to mess this up. Maybe even more so because you seem to think that I know everything about being in a relationship. Which I _really_ don’t.”

Well, that’s unexpected.

Never in a million years would she have thought that _Oliver Queen_ , of all people, would be insecure about relationships. Not Oliver Queen, two time People’s Sexiest Man Alive, once upon a time teenage heartthrob turned award-winning superstar.

But with that train of thought comes a simmering feeling of guilt and shame for subconsciously remembering and believing what the tabloids have said about him over the years. She should’ve known that there is so much more to the story and to him as a person than whatever the media says. But it’s just so easy to read all those scandalous headlines and see the candid photos and believe the stories they tell.

From the first time she met him in the elevator, she’s always grappled with reconciling the two versions of Oliver she got to see. On the one hand, there’s –or rather, there _was_ — the cocky, successful Hollywood royalty who has screaming fans fall to his feet at every chance, and the guy who’s brought a different supermodel to every premiere he attended and allegedly slept with a fair share of his female co-stars.

And on the other hand, you have the down-to-earth, incredibly kind and almost shy guy that is in front of her right now. The one that fails to carry her through the park, and the one that loves spoiling her with freshly cooked meals and lazy nights in on the couch.

That’s _her_ Oliver, the real Oliver.

That’s the man she loves.

How could she ever doubt that?

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, searching his eyes, hoping that he can see how much she means that.

“Hey, no, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do,” she argues, looking down. “I’ve apparently kept letting other people’s opinions and presumptions of you cloud my own judgment. Which is so stupid because I _know_ you, the real you. I should’ve seen that I put too much pressure on you with my assumption that you’d magically have all the answers going into a relationship.”

She feels him tug on her hands, probably to get her attention, but she’s on a roll now. “Here I am talking about how important communication is and what do I do? I just assume things without even trying to talk to you…”

The tugging grows more persistent.

“… I was being such a hypocrite. How can I expect something from you and do the exact opposite myself?”

“Felicity.”

“You know, I always chide other people when they do this kinda stuff, and now I’m one of them…”

“Felicity.”

“Now I have to wonder, do I do this in other parts of my life, too? Am I a hypocrite all the time and just too self-righteous to realize? How do people stand to be around m-“

“I love you.”

What?

“Huh?” is all she manages to croak out in her sudden stupor, her mind failing to completely catch up with his words.

He smiles indulgently at her, like he knows that she needs a second to understand what he just said, a happy twinkle dancing in his eyes. “I love you,” he repeats calmly, framing her face with his hands. “I love that you care so much that you start questioning everything. I love that you are just as clueless as I am. And I love that your crazy, smart mind leads you on these epic babbles.”

“I… but… that…” What is happening? Why is she, Miss Talks-a-lot, suddenly tongue-tied and unable to form a complete sentence?

“I know it’s really early on in our relationship, but I just wanted you to know how I feel,” Oliver explains, his thumb ghosting over her skin. “And I hope that instead of freaking you out or scaring you off, this’ll help you see that I’m absolutely serious about you… and us. Crazy, nervous babbling and all.”

She locks her eyes on his, searching for anything that would indicate that he’s not being truthful, anything that would prove he doesn’t actually mean it. All she sees is confidence and determination and love. So much love.

As if he was reading her mind, realizing that she believes him, his lips stretch into a glorious smile. “I’m in love with you, Felicity,” he whispers. “And I’d like nothing more than for us to tackle this scary and new part of our lives together. As a team. As partners. As people who make mistakes and figure out how to be amazing together.”

Something wet runs across her nose and only then does she realize that she’s crying. Which is stupid, because she _knew_ that this was coming. She felt it long before he said it. But _hearing_ him say the actual words, seeing him put those feelings out in the open with zero regrets or doubts, is absolutely overwhelming.

“I’m in love with you, too,” she whispers, voice laden with emotion.

His eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having anticipated her words. “You don’t have to say it back just becau-“

“I love you, Oliver,” she declares, her voice steadier now. “I love you.”

His only answer is to dip down and capture her lips with his in a heated kiss, pouring all of his feelings, all of his love into it. And boy, who knew kissing Oliver Queen could get even better?

Every other kiss, no matter how earth-shattering or toe-curling she deemed it at the time, pales in comparison to this. Because this is _everything_. Their love for each other is finally out in the open, no more tiptoeing around their feelings and all the doubts and what-ifs and could-bes. There’s just love and the knowledge that they’ll face everything ahead of them together. The good and the bad.

Muffled barks from the upper level where Arcus is still exiled are what finally makes them part, both breathing heavily, their limbs entangled in a complete mess that feels absolutely right.

“We should probably let the poor guy out,” Felicity groans –even though having Arcus crash their celebration is the last thing she wants to do right about now— and nuzzles her nose against Oliver’s neck, finding the sensitive spot that makes him growl low in his belly.

“Mehh, he’ll be fine for another hour. Or two.”

 **⁂** **⁂** **⁂** **The End ⁂** **⁂** **⁂**

 

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Let me know in the comment section or come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://bri617aroundtheworld.tumblr.com/) ;) Always happy to hear your thoughts!


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